The Howler
by flah7
Summary: Sheppard's team and Beckett got to a planet searching for the source of a powerful energy reading and while there offer medical aid to some of the planet's inhabitants. The team and Beckett run into difficulties. Grrrr.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Howler

Author: Heatherf

Disclaimers: Not mine, no money made, etc. Do own a gaseous dog with a bad attitude

Warnings: My grammar, spelling, and blatant disregard for proper punctuation (I'm a rebel like that) etc. Bad words.

Thanks: Mitzi and NT, they're amazing (like Meg T.) I'm in awe of their natural ability to make commas behave and to catch the words I just make up on a whim.

Spoilers: None. Well, I don't think there are any.

Any and all mistakes are all mine; those I'm exceedingly good at and will take credit for them.

Summary: The team and Beckett go off world to look for an energy source (big surprise there) and offer medical aid to the locals (another original plot concept) and run across some trouble (Good God look at all these original ideas!)

Characters: Beckett, McKay, Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon

* * *

The small knot of five strode forward, heads bowed, leaning into the wind and the driving rain of a moonless night. The wind swept down from the steep craggy monolith mountains that ringed the territory. The wind was brutally raw and as fierce as the mountains that stretched into the night sky. The mountain tops loomed like pointed incisor teeth. The forest spread from its base and stretched for miles before coming to an abrupt stop at the city edges.

M3X-808's city was nothing more than a collection of stone buildings that radiated out from a central well like spokes on a wheel. It sat at the southeastern border of the dense forest and was the only trading market within a five days walk of the stargate. Villages and small farms dotted and scarred the surrounding forest like rosetta rash on a small child.

The heavy dank smell of animal hide and rotten produce enveloped the small band of travelers as the wind coursed over abandoned streets. The tallest of the group strode a step before the others, leading them steadfastly through the deserted cobble streets that only four days ago hummed with activity. Traders of all kinds had peddled their wares as farmers and woodsmen brought their products to buyers. The streets had been filled with the scents of animals, unwashed bodies, herbs and spices. Horse drawn carts bogged the streets, struggling over the cobbled stones, scratching for purchase pulling wagons loaded to near bursting capacity, carrying produce, seeds and hay.

Dr. Weir had sent SGA-1 and Carson Beckett off world to M3X-808 five days ago, based on the recommendations made my Major Lorne and his team after their initial investigation of the world.

Major Lorne had taken unexplained powerful energy readings that sporadically seared their instruments and deemed they required a closer look.

The booming metropolises which comprised the only major trading city of the planet seemed nothing more than an overblown 'farmer's market intermingled with the worse smells of any fish or poultry market found in the inner cities of Earth's larger cities. However, the team was not there to investigate the growing 'city' or its sporadically washed inhabitants.

Their interests laid outside the bubbling, gurgling confines of the Spartan stone block buildings.

Colonel John Sheppard and his team were to investigate the surrounding thick forests and its inhabitants.

SGA-1 and Dr. Carson Beckett had left the city in search of the mysterious spiking power. The random and amazingly strong, if infrequent bursts of energy were still there. They practically had Dr. McKay hyperventilating with excitement. However, they were unable to pinpoint their exact source of origin. The instruments flared to life, sparked and blinked out for a moment before coming back on line.

Dr. Beckett had occasionally leaned over the astrophysicist shoulder to stare at the energy readings and found nothing terribly exciting. Beckett's occasional unimpressed 'hmmms' and unenthusiastic 'ahhhs,' brought McKay to a jibe sprouting tizzy and chuckles from the others.

"Why'd we bring him?" McKay had asked on multiple occasions, each time directing his question to Colonel Sheppard.

Carson matched McKay's put upon look and would stare expectantly at the Colonel, hoping to hear an incredibly good reason.

He was sadly disappointed every time.

The answers ranged from, 'He needed to get out'---to 'vaccinate the locals' to 'irritate you, McKay'.

McKay would mutter, "Figures," and turn his attention back to his handheld energy meter.

Sheppard's answers did not satisfy either scientist. Carson felt it necessary to point out to everyone, again, that he could not just go off world and arbitrarily vaccinate some alien population against a set of diseases that were not indigenous to their planet, with antibodies or antigens that were probably incompatible with the population in question. Didn't any of them pay attention in their biology classes?

McKay's hands automatically started flapping in mimicking of 'blah, blah, blah,' to further irritate the physician.

He succeeded quite brilliantly.

With those two grumbling at one another with an undercurrent of good nature ribbing, the rest of SGA-1 headed out of the city and its festival like drum of activity and into the surrounding dark forest, with Colonel Sheppard on point, Teyla a few steps behind and Ronon bringing up the rear. Nestled in the middle, protected on point and at their six, oblivious to the positioning of the team, Drs Beckett and McKay needled one another with seemingly tireless energy.

Sheppard sighed and closed his eyes briefly, wondering if it was even worth the effort to order them to be silent. He could hope that it lasted for more than a few seconds but realized it would only allow those two to build up energy for more arguments later.

Teyla occasionally chuckled at the verbal sparring between the two men behind her as they jumped from one unrelated topic to another. They eventually toppled onto the subject of which was a truer sport; Rugby, Football, Ice hockey or Curling?

Sheppard had perked up at the mention of Football but soon lost interest when he realized they spoke about Soccer. He listened to their incessant arguments, which were fueled more by passion than hard fact. The colonel cringed and considered turning around and shooting both of them and cursing himself for not having the foresight to bring a Wraith Stunner with him on this mission.

He dropped his head to his chest when Ronon inquired about Curling. McKay's explanation was nearly as tedious as the game itself.

Beckett had the gumption or lack of good sense to refrain from telling Rodney the same. Sheppard figured the physician was either incredibly brave or immeasurably foolish. Either way McKay prattled on with all the blustery indignation of an insulted brilliant, un-equaled genius whose country's second favorite pastime was just maligned.

The Colonel tossed an irritated look over his shoulder, making sure Beckett saw his displeasure.

The answering, dimpled grin only irritated the Colonel even more. Sheppard in a flash of insight suddenly understood Beckett's nettle like conversation with McKay. An answering knowing smile lit Sheppard's face.

"It's not going to work, Doc. You're still going off world with us again." It was close, though, Sheppard had to concede that Beckett was close to succeeding in either getting himself grounded to Atlantis indefinitely or simply shot.

Sheppard took great pleasure in seeing the grin fade from Beckett's features.

For five days, SGA-1 and Dr. Carson Beckett wandered the surrounding area circumferentially, searching for any type of energy readings that would fit with what Major Lorne and his team had measured a short week earlier, to no avail. The readings flashed across handheld monitors with brilliant blinding light that shut senses off before readings could be taken. Despite Rodney's attempts to protect the equipment and amplify the instruments' ability to withstand the intense burst, the ancient handheld tools failed to pinpoint the source of the strange power output.

The group continued their blind search through the soggy forest. They continued to trip across scattered dirt villages littered with malnourished inhabitants.

It was also during the Major's previous visit that Lorne and his team had indicated, perhaps prematurely, that they had access to medicines and knowledge that could aid some of the small surrounding villages before the coming winter.

They had promised to send a doctor.

As a result, Weir sent SGA-1 and Beckett back to M3X-808 with orders to find the source of the readings, hopefully a ZPM and fulfill the questionable medical promises made by SGA-2.

Lorne had chuckled out a warning to the departing members of SGA-1 and Dr. Beckett to beware of the man-eating, livestock-tearing beast of the forest. The locals called it a Howler.

Lorne's team had seen nothing of such a mythical creature, but wished the others luck.

The major's words about a roaming, bone crushing monster reached Beckett's ears just as the doctor stepped forward to enter the wormhole. Carson simply spun on his heel and tried to head back to his infirmary.

Sheppard snapped out a hand and latched onto the back of Beckett's vest and effectively turned the Scot back around toward the gate and propelled the doctor through the wormhole.

The colonel departed, showering the major with a look that promised dire consequences when he returned.

Paybacks were, in fact, a bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

SGA-1 had stepped through the shimmering pool of light and onto the stone apron and into the drizzling, mud-covered, tree-lined world of M3X-808.

Rodney had stepped off the granite stone steps onto the soft soil, which puddled bubbling ground water around his boot. McKay contemplated the dark grey sky, the drizzling rain and the saturated ground.

The "M" in M3X-808 should be for Mud.

He stared at his handheld sensor that read nothing but worldly low level energy found on even the most primitive planets, and felt his ire grow. He was going to catch pneumonia out here---and for what, nothing. McKay turned on his heel to face the Colonel when his meter suddenly flared to life, readings spiked and then completely whited the screen for a brief moment before falling dark.

The tangy smell of ozone waved from the instrument.

McKay's mind jumped track, his focus narrowed in on his instrument and he strode into the forest, not caring if the others followed him or not. There was something powerful out there and it was not some cracker jack, Halloween spook.

After five days of slogging through mud, tripping over endless tree roots and slapping their way through dropping deciduous and pine needled branches, SGA-1 found no ZPM, no viable explanation for the readings.

They did, of course, come across a few sick 'wee babes' that were more in need of adequate warm clothing and less dank and moldy homes than true medical assistance. As Beckett sourly pointed out to Colonel Sheppard with a bit of muffled, frustrated, growl, that carpenters and tradesmen were needed here not just doctors. He didn't have near enough supplies or personnel with him to do a decent job to help these people. They needed education, better food, and healthier living conditions.

His efforts would be no different than putting a finger over the hole at the bottom of a dam.

Sheppard merely patted him on the shoulder in condolence and left him and Teyla to tend the villages while he, Ronon and Rodney searched for the source of the energy readings in the surrounding forest. The sharp walls of towering, jagged stone mountains stretched in the distance surrounding them on all sides.

Beckett sighed and nodded his head as he watched the others disappear into the forest. With a deep breath, he faced the destitute little village and headed toward the first crumbling hut with Teyla at his side.

In the end, he treated the young and old alike in their dark stagnant and ill ventilated homes that burned bricks of dung in their centers. He had coddled whimpering, thin skinned, pot bellied babes to his chest trying to ease their crying as their mothers hacked and coughed, spitting up thick green and blood tinged phlegm into woolen towels that were discarded to the dirt floors to pile and fester. Toddlers and slightly older children ran amok in and out of the dark huts ill clothed and poorly fed.

He medicated whom he could, taught those that had an ear to learn and, with rolled up sleeves and Teyla's help, they fixed leaky roofs and patched crumbling walls.

Beckett had suffered the misfortune of tumbling from one thatched roof and landing flat on his back. Thankfully, the thick mud, his shoulders and the back of his head broke his fall. The aches and pains from his backward slide from the roof, and the uncomfortable, sticky, tenacious clinging of muddied clothing paled in comparison to the ribbing he received that night from McKay, Sheppard and even Ronon.

Each day seemed to start the same. The rising sun was masked behind a thick curtain of low grey clouds and a veil of drizzle that occasionally bordered on solid rain.

Toes and soles of feet seemed forever pruned in damp socks that never quite dried out completely.

The five would slog through the rain, feet eventually becoming chilled from the seeping ground water, and head for another isolated village. Beckett and Teyla would stay and tend the villagers while Sheppard, Ronon and McKay continued to search the surrounding countryside for the elusive energy source.

The villagers were not unkind toward the visiting strangers, but their apathy toward helping themselves and those around them wore on the two off worlders.

Beckett and Teyla spent each day in a different village, which mirrored its neighbors the day before.

Beckett's work kept him within the cramped confines of the dark huts and smoldering discolored smoke of burning waste, while Teyla walked the small outposts, learning what she could of their customs, their way of life and the mythical monster that hunted in the shadows of the woods.

The team worked through the different days much like the day previous to it. For Beckett and Teyla, each village appeared similar in its desolate isolation and sickly populace. Women and children remained within the confines, while the men disappeared into hidden fields. Elderly were not to be found.

For Sheppard, Ronon and McKay, the thick forest, muddied trails and insurmountable wall of granite mountains diverged only in the direction that they traveled. To McKay, one tree looked much like another. Overturned ground smelled much like the overturned soil of the day before. Half worked fields, crumbling stone walls, and the dearth of animals and human alike were both unnerving and unnatural in the sweeping forest. McKay found himself gripping his sensor display tighter with each passing day, finding comfort in the technology that lay within his grip.

Each morning, through the shimmering veil of drizzle, the team headed for a village in the hopes that today would be the day they discovered the source of the energy readings so they could head home, back to the warmth, and comfort of Atlantis and the dubious safety it offered.

The children greeted the travelers each day with sunken eyes but bright smiles.

They circled the visitors, tugging on their strange clothes, patting their legs, arms and hands laughing and talking loudly, hoping for a handout, searching for some kind of praise. They were not much different than the homeless dog like creatures that yapped and scurried between the huts eking out a futile meal.

Each morning, the children shouted, asking, "Did you see the Howler!". With eyes held wide, their yellow irises seemed ghastly strange within the constant drizzle of a grey day. The children jumped and shouted, laughing and dancing about asking if, the Howler had tried to break their bones and eat their flesh. Did it try to strike at them with its poisonous tail and rip their innards out with curled claws?' The children would mimic their questions, gnarl their fingers and snarl their lips, twisting their heads to the side, growling in gross mimicry of what they described. Their giggles and laughter underscored their concern.

Teyla smiled sweetly at the children while giving the doctor a curious and concerned look, and answered the children's questions and eased the doctor's growing concern to the best of her ability.

No, the Howler had not tried to devour them in the night.

The children followed them in awe, milling around them like buffalo gnats on a windless day. They wanted to be close to the magical, tall standing strangers who befuddled the great fearsome Howler.

Through the days, Beckett and Teyla worked on helping who they could and played games with the attentive young ones. They paused only to eat their own rations and share them with the children who flocked to their sides whenever Beckett exited a hut and ventured into the drizzle to meet Teyla who waited patiently outside as if on guard.

It unnerved the doctor. He peered into the forest, trying to see past the grey, sodden trunks and clicking branches into the wood, hoping to see the safe return of the others and the end of their visit here on M3X-808.

In four days times, Beckett had medicated the mothers the best he could, he taught them what he knew and what his own mother had taught him as a child about keeping warm and dry, and fresh air in the lungs. He mingled science with common sense and worked with the little knowledge he held of their myths and local ways in hopes of improving the basic living conditions of those stuck within the small stagnant hovels.

Children dressed in ill equipped clothing darted between mud thatched homes, squealing with hoarse, breathless laughter, shadowed by emaciated half wild dogs nipping at their heels. Both, looking for attention, hoping for a meal, and seeking some place warm and dry to stave off the coming winter chill. They were children. They lived for the moment, unconcerned about the bleakness of their near and limited future.

Water puddled on the ground. Toddlers stomped through it, splashed it into the air as they squatted in the muddy shallow depths. The older children shied away, familiar with the bone numbing chill that came from being wet too late in the day to efficiently dry out.

Heavy grey clouds effectively hid the dying sun and a cool, constant breeze worked its way between fraying seams and chilled skin under damp clothing.

Beckett watched the young ones with a heavy heart, knowing there was little he could truly do to help them.

Perhaps McKay would find the power source and perhaps it would be something they could use to improve the living conditions of those in the villages.

Beckett raised his face to the rain, the muscles of his neck and shoulders burned slightly at the movement a stinging reminder of his tumble from the roof the other day. He let it wash away some of the heat that flushed his cheeks.

The best thing to help these people would be proper nutrition, warm homes and education. Perhaps even a dry day or two with a spot of sun, but apparently that was too much to expect and well beyond even McKay's abilities.

At the end of every day, Colonel Sheppard and his team would melt from the darkening forest, their outer coats and hats drenched, faces pink from the gentle but incessant wind and retrieve Beckett and Teyla. Together the five would disappear back into the forest, away from the drudgery and grey and creeping doom of sickness and impending threat of winter that cloaked the villages.

The children would stand at the edge of their villages and watch the group of strangers disappear into the shadow of the forest and wonder at the extraordinary bravery of the visitors as they once again entered the realm of the Howler.

Sheppard and his team had silently agreed they would risk a dire terrible death at the frightful claws of the dreaded mystical beast than stay within the confines of the small sickly villages. It was a decision McKay as well as Beckett welcomed even though it forced tired muscles and fatigued joints to work a little longer, to carry them a click or two further to the base of the ominous mountains.

The team camped in the relatively dry caves at the base of looming white capped mountains. At night, Rodney would rant about the mysteries of the energy readings. Beckett wished he had brought more medicines and scrubbed at his face wearily fearing for the lives of the wee babes, and Sheppard listened as Teyla recounted the tales of the ferocious beast that allegedly inhabited the forest at night.

None of the inhabitants knew of any energy. Their vocabulary had no word that even suggested they had ever encountered an energy source that was not borne from the very sweat and labor of their backs or nature herself.

Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla shouldered the responsibility of keeping their small camp safe while they all shared the chores of camp life at night.

The continuous repetitive stories, from village to village, of the Howler kept weapons within easy reach.

On the second night, Sheppard woke to the sounds of a hacking cough. He feared it was McKay and worried that the astrophysicist had somehow contracted another mysterious malady. As he lay in his bed roll listening, the colonel realized it was Beckett who was coughing relentlessly and was sleeping through it.

Figures.

He listened to McKay moving around irritably within the confines of his sleeping bag.

The group slept in a ring around the small central fire pit. Socks and assorted clothing lay draped over rocks or picketed on sticks to dry by the fire's edge.

Sheppard's head was at the foot of Beckett's sleeping bag.

Teyla's head was just at the base of Sheppard's bed roll and Ronon stood like a shadow at the mouth of the cave keeping watch, careful to keep his eyes from the light of the fire.

Beckett and McKay slept with the heads of their sleeping bags only a few feet apart, refusing to put their faces anywhere near someone else's feet.

Sheppard shook his head those two were trouble together, no matter what Elizabeth Weir said.

"He got a fever, McKay?" the Colonel asked, rolling onto his side to see Rodney snake his arm back within the warm confines of his sleeping bag.

A dry cough shook Beckett's hidden shoulders within the puffy protection of his sleeping bag.

"No," Rodney answered and then reached out with both hands and shoved Beckett's head. "Carson, shut up."

Beckett mumbled something, rolled deeper into his sleeping bag and quieted down.

McKay beamed at Sheppard as if to say 'this voodoo stuff is easy'.

Sheppard merely rolled over, fixed his sleeping bag, untwisting it and freeing up more space, losing the near claustrophobic feeling when the bag got too disorderly and constrictive, despite the fact he slept with it unzipped. Once settled and with more room for his feet, he began to drift off.

The coughing started again. Sheppard closed his eyes as he listened to McKay shove Beckett and demand him to quiet down.

The colonel dozed off some time later to McKay still rattling the Scot who continued to sleep oblivious.


	3. Chapter 3

FFN is being difficult. The ending of the story is written! Yeah! This isn't it though. Haahahaha.

**Part 3**

The drizzling grey rain continued. The wind constantly turned pine needles and rustled leaves. Mud sucked at soles and seeped through water proofed seams and laces.

For four days, Colonel Sheppard and his team traipsed through the thick forest which was only broken by low stone walls that surrounded mud rowed square fields which wielded poor crops more years than good.

Their energy sources were equivalent to a lodestone, but without the navigational advantage a true lodestone offered.

They occasionally came across unusual, large tracks in the mud that seemed to be made by a quadruped with curled claws, a large stride and of some considerable weight.

It was on the third day they found the local version of a horse gutted and torn asunder. The marrow had been sucked from its bones. Pieces of its master were found draped high within the tree branches overhead.

No villager dared speak of the loss of the animal or its master. The children merely muttered that the Howler was near.

That night, the five SGA team members slept uneasily in a cave at the base of the mountains. Beckett continued to cough, McKay continued to wake him and tell him to quiet down. Teyla, Ronon and Sheppard once again shared night watch.

At some point in the night, the group was ripped from their sleep by the sounds of a horrific battle somewhere deep within the dark forest. The grisly snarls and roar of clashing animals rolled through the night. The crash of bodies and snapping of branches easily reached the occupants of the cave. The battle sounded fierce, and silence seemed to mark the tearing of flesh. Then one snarl gave way to high pierced kiayiing and wailing and then sudden, deathly silence.

The SGA-1 team shared nervous looks. Sheppard and Teyla had climbed from their bedrolls and joined Ronon at the cave entrance, weapons ready. Rodney sat up and dragged his gear closer to himself and like Beckett put his boots back on and laced them.

No one slept any more that night. Rodney kept the fire blazing, though it ruined their night vision. Beckett dozed off at the break of dawn.

The fourth morning, the group hesitantly left the cave.

Beckett and Teyla were left to tend yet another small village. Sheppard checked the working order of the doctor's sidearm before handing it back to Beckett who slid it uneasily into its holster. With tight smiles and weapons held a little closer to their bodies, the others entered the forest with more caution. Beckett watched them with fear coursing through his veins and his heart thundering in his chest. He didn't think they should split up.

Sheppard looked once over his shoulder and waved back at the Scot. His smile was bright and reassuring.

Beckett wondered if he was seeing his friends for the last time. With a heavy heart, Carson turned back to the dreary village and started his day's work. If he did survive this, he would surely strangle Major Lorne.

At the end of the day, Sheppard called a halt to the search. They headed back to the last village, nestled deep within the forest, and retrieved Beckett and Teyla.

The last babe and great grand-dam had been treated. Beckett was out of medicine. Teyla was out of patience for people who could not see their own ruin before them. Children followed them to the edge of the village, barefoot and thinly clothed. They feared what lay beyond the outer rim of their huts. However, bright smiles and exuberant waves from meatless arms wished the SGA team farewell as wasted curs circled the children's feet, sniffing for crumbs.

They were a full day's walk from the central trading city of M3X-808 and, from there, an additional forty-five minutes from the gate. With little choice, they camped one last time within a cave at the base of the mountains. They would head for the gate early in the morning.

It was a quiet group that set up camp. Tensions ran high as chores were done quickly and efficiently. Ronon, Sheppard and Rodney collected wood for the night's fire. Rodney didn't complain or balk when it was just he that gathered sticks and branches and broken logs and hauled them back to their cave. His silence, though welcomed, by the Runner and Colonel, worried them both. McKay was beyond just uneasy. He babbled when he was merely frightened. He became deathly silent when terrified. In the dying light of a waning sun, Ronon and Sheppard stood guard as McKay quickly gathered enough firewood in three trips to last them the night.

Their final return trip to the cave found the sleeping bags out, a small dinner cooking and Teyla and Carson oiling handguns.

Carson coughed the night away, tucked uneasily within his sleeping bag with his boots still laced. McKay lay in his, tinkering with the Ancient handheld scanner. Sheppard stood watch while Teyla and Ronon gave the impression of sleeping.

The cave sparked to life when the night was once again disrupted by the fierce sound of fighting. The snapping of jaws, the gnashing of teeth, the sound of flesh being torn seemed closer to their little cave.

Ronon, Teyla and Rodney gathered their weapons and stood with Sheppard staring into the wet evening, trying to make out shadows on a cloudy night. Beckett slept oblivious until Sheppard ordered Rodney to wake him as the sounds of the fight escalated and seemed to draw closer and closer to the cave. Teyla kicked out the fire, as Rodney handed Carson a weapon.

The group had stood in silence listening to the brutal fight and then horrific death of one of the battling creatures.

Near dawn, Carson sat and slowly slid to his side. Soft coughs rattled his sleep.

Rodney took the revolver from his friend's slack hand and positioned himself between the mouth of the cave and Beckett. He stood tiredly, gun at his side, heart racing, behind Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla watching their body language.

Morning sparked with a flash of lightning as a deluge of rain splattered the ground. Thunder rolled overhead as the group shouldered their damp packs, checked their weapons and stole deep breaths to prepare themselves before entering into the growing storm.

Sheppard shot the CMO a concerned look as Beckett once again coughed, red faced, into his hand. With a dismissive hand, Carson waved off the Colonel's concern and tried nodding his head, all the while hacking.

McKay simply rolled his head. "Yes, yes, let's ask the dying man if he feels okay…I'm sure we'll get an honest answer from him."

"I'm fine," Beckett's hoarse voice was no louder than a whisper.

"I'm sure William Henry Harrison said the same thing," McKay muttered.

Sheppard decided they would take a less circuitous route. McKay had silently feared the 'straight line' path, remembering their first run in with the Genii. However, Teyla and Ronon were with them so they made good time heading in the correct direction with Beckett trudging quietly behind them, popping combinations of Ibuprofen and Tylenol every few hours.

They planned on skirting around the villages.

The first village they tried to circumvent drew them in with its stark silence and inactivity.

They discovered the village that had only days before held a scant population of mud covered children, stray dogs and weary adults, now appeared empty and abandoned. No smoke spiraled up through the battered thatch roofs. Outside, fires lay cold and unattended. Blackened sticks with whitish ash lay soaked within small stone pits. No smoke whisked and danced in the growing wind.

Uneasy with their discovery, the group moved on. As the day crawled by, village after village appeared desolate and devoid of life.

The SGA-1 team cautiously entered these villages eying them with suspicion that bordered on apprehension and some fear.

Nothing sparked of life. Not a child, not a rattling hacking adult, not a stray. Rain puddled in trodden mud, wind billowed tattered fabric window and door coverings. Not a soul was to be found.

The SGA-1 team continued onward.

The rain tapered off to a mere drizzle; the thunder rolled on ahead even as the lightning dissipated. The group continued to walk toward the city, passing one desolate and abandoned village after another.

The third village they found lay in ruin. The pieces of a stray mutt lay strewn over a thatched roof and neighboring threshold.

Ronon raised his eyes to the overhead trees. McKay hesitantly allowed his eyes to drift upward, arguing with himself the whole time not to look. His sharp blue eyes searched the gnarled branches of over hanging trees. The runner and scientist both saw only the bare hint of clothing dangling within the high confines of the limbs.

The group entered the village quietly, weapons drawn. The patter of rain became nothing more than background noise. Huts were partially toppled; pots over turned. Clawed quadruped footprints were found sunken deep within the mud collecting rainwater. The prints circled each of the huts.

No children, adults or curved-back underfed strays were found intact. A paw here, a tail there, perhaps an ear lay scattered over the small village. Blood had long ago been washed away.

Beckett shared a worried glance with McKay. Both peered over their shoulders to Sheppard who simply stared back at them serious and stone faced, and jutted his chin out to keep them moving forward.

They checked hut after hut, finding nothing but destruction and, in one, a severed lower limb. On further inspection, encouraged by Sheppard, they found the marrow had been sucked clear of the tibia. Beckett dropped the severed foot and backed away. His blue eyes were open wide, the pupils dilated due to the dim light and intense fear. He backed out of the hut, his hand clenched tightly around the grip of his holstered gun. A reassuring squeeze on his shoulder had him spinning around and facing Sheppard. The Colonel merely pattered his shoulder in grim understanding and gently nudged him to follow Rodney. The astrophysicist licked dry lips and tried to offer some silent reassurance to Beckett.

The two doctors fell in line and continued to follow Teyla and Ronon. Sheppard kept himself between the two doctors and anything that might try and spring at them from behind.

With the last hut explored, no survivors, no intact bodies found to be buried, the Lanteans headed back into the forest, following the twisting trail that lay confined within the misty depths of the forest.

Sheppard silently directed Ronon to point, the Colonel dropped back to cover their back trail leaving Teyla to shadow the two doctors. McKay recognized the placement of people and shot a worried look to Sheppard.

The Colonel merely tilted his head toward Beckett, giving McKay a responsibility that would take his mind off his own personal safety.

McKay, in the thick of battle, proved time and time again that he was indeed a steadfast and loyal friend. With too much time to think, his mouth would engage, with time to mull, he would envision worse case scenarios. Sheppard had learned that when given someone else to watch over, whether it be a fellow scientist or an overtly inquisitive child, McKay stepped up to the plate and protected those around him to his great surprise.

Sheppard had learned quickly that if he kept McKay's overactive mind busy with something other than Rodney's own safety, the Scientist was a formable opponent, if not truly unpredictable.

With the falling of the sun and lengthening shadows, anxiety rose as stories of the Howler came to the forefront and images of the abandoned and destroyed villages and disembodied pieces of horse and owner, from days prior, flashed to mind's eye.

Sheppard's team wound their way through darkening forest with chilled hands gripped tight to weapons.

As dark night settled across their path, the group found themselves within the weak lantern light of the trading mecca of M3X-808P.


	4. Chapter 4 & 5

Technical issues. Bare with me. Chapters 4 and 5 have been combined because they belong together, like peanut butter and jelly, Peanut butter and fluff; brown bread and beans.

**Part 4**

The city contained four cobblestone streets that stretched out from the central well in the basic four compass directions of the planet. Squat, granite blocked buildings stood side by side, looming over the narrow byways. Windows banged in their panes, sounding like fragile glass that would shatter with the slightest gale. Candles and sconces flickered on inner walls as the persistent wind bled its way through cracks and seams.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief as they left the stretching confines of the thick forest and entered the 'city'.

The streets were desolate, the populace hiding within the sturdy confines of their stone dwellings. Curious faces peered out behind flimsy curtains, at the strangers that dared walk the streets on a stormy night.

The sudden harsh deluge of a raw fall rainstorm had the team tucking their chins in closer to their chests and hunching their shoulders up around their ears. The fat droplets of rain teetered on the biting edge of frost and snow. It drove icy teeth through off world clothing, goose bumping flesh and leaching heat from those caught in the abrasive wind which scoured the stone lined street. Rain pelted them with punishing intensity.

The five shuffled against the wind, holding weapons close to their torsos with painfully pink chapped fingers. With chins tucked in tight to their chests and hats pulled low over furrowed brows, the small group traveled up through the city byways. As a group, they weaved through the empty streets whose gutters ran with near freezing water and chunks of aberrant manure from various questionable species.

Without question, the four followed the fifth, past small, short, heavy stoned buildings with windows that glowed soft yellow with the promise of drafty warmth and questionable dryness.

Teyla's helpful suggestion that perhaps they rest here for the night was met with a heavy silence. They were tired, cold and wet. They wanted nothing more than to be safely home under the comforting glow of Atlantis. They wanted nothing more than to dry out, wear clean clothing and indulge in hot showers. However, fear of what destroyed the villages and stories of the Howler kept them silent.

The threat of the mysterious beast seemed to dissipate with each step that drew them closer to the city center. Their steps became a little lighter, grips loosened on weapons and the familiar banter slowly began to sound off.

As they wound their way through the cobbled streets in the torrential rain, the group began to relax a little.

"Carson here sounds like he needs a doctor," McKay gleefully slapped the physician on the shoulder spraying water from the saturated coat and forcing the Scot to stutter a step forward. "Too bad you don't have a healthy constitution like mine, huh, Carson?"

Carson's retort was lost under a harsh cough.

"What was that?" Rodney asked holding his hand up to his ear. "I can't hear you over all that coughing."

Beckett simply glared at the astrophysicist, and then a slow menacing smile quirked his upper lip.

It made Sheppard shudder. Scientists were a scary lot.

The team trudged on through the deserted streets. Stomachs growled over the constant patter of pelting rain.

Beckett's cough rattled his burning chest and brought tears to his eyes. Sheppard shared a concerned look with McKay who shrugged with a 'what can I do?' look.

In the center of the stone commonwealth, near the well which lay upstream of the livery and houses of questionable repute, stood a tavern, the only tavern within the confines of the sham city.

It was decided they'd stop here before determining if they were going to risk trekking the last two miles to the Stargate. They'd warm up, get dry, and hope the weather cleared without finding any trouble.

All eyes fell to Dr. Beckett who sighed and tossed his hands into the air.

You find yourself in one little altercation on a completely different planet and you get labeled for life.

* * *

As a group, they paused while their point man shouldered open the thick wooden door, which swung easily on solid wrought iron hinges.

The door swung open and a wall of heat hit them like a heavy stage curtain. Those in back pushed the ones in front forward. The sudden blast of heavy warmth and the murmur of voices were too much and caution was forfeited as the group pushed and jostled its way into the building and into the promise of enveloping heat.

They herded themselves out of the blustery cold of a dark fall rain and into the deafening silence of an off world tavern.

The silence hung as heavily and thick as the warmth that swathed the newcomers.

A large wall fire, surrounded by massive boulders mortared together with M3X-808's version of cement, or perhaps concrete, protected the wide board hard wood floor which had become warped with age and relentless tread.

Dried mud dust hid the natural grain and gave the floor a texture of sand and grit.

Patrons paused in lifting their ale to their lips, cut their sentences off abruptly as heads turned to stare at the five off worlders.

A few of the five smiled halfheartedly and offered small muted waves. They were met with impassive stony silence.

The patrons stared at them under heavy, dark eyebrows and weather beaten faces. Calloused hands, forged by a lifetime of labor, tightened around thick glass mugs and sturdy wooden bowls.

Three of the five darkly dressed off worlders returned their gazes while one fixated on the bar and the other stared at the monstrous fire.

A cast iron cauldron hung over the fire, its twisted iron handle hung from a metal rod as thick as a workingman's forearm. Heavy gloves hung from one end with empty and dubiously clean bowls stacked at an angle to rival the great tower of Pisa. No hint of utensils were to be seen.

McKay eyed the bowls and then the cook pot and swallowed. He could feel his heart begin to race, his limbs and cheeks begin to tingle as his stomach clenched. It had been hours since they had last eaten and the sapping rain did nothing to decrease his demand for energy. His hands shook within the wet confines of his coat as a cold sweat broke out between his shoulder blades at the anticipation of a meal.

He felt his irritability climb, matching his sudden explosive need to eat something. He felt like an addict needing a hit. He despised his hypoglycemia at times.

McKay stepped around Sheppard with every intention of beating Ronon the Behemoth to the promise of warmed stew or soup. McKay truly did not care what lay within the pot; as long as it was dead and didn't stare back at him, he was willing to try it.

He brushed past Beckett, knocking into the Doctor's shoulder and jostling him. It earned the astrophysicist an angry warning growl, which McKay heeded and muttered an apology. He had no intentions of being on the receiving end of the Scotsman's true ire, especially in a tavern.

Rodney wove his way through the tables, ignoring the blatant stares of the inhabitants of this little out of the way medieval world.

There was no ZPM waiting to be discovered so there was really no use in getting to know them.

The only energy to be found was from the backs of those that labored in the muddied fields and forest in attempts to eek out a meager existence.

Sheppard and Teyla followed McKay through the tavern, winding their way between tables and patrons, hoping not to offend anyone and praying no one found offense with them.

Sheppard prayed McKay kept his mouth shut just this once.

Sheppard didn't fear whether or not his team could hold their own if fisticuffs should arise, however, his hands were ice cold, his limbs felt brittle and swapping punches seemed like too much effort with too little return.

Besides he was as hungry and as tired as the rest of his group, perhaps save Rodney, who had an appetite that would choke a thousand small gerbils. The man was a machine when it came to groceries.

The three made their way to a table near the cook pot, no surprise there, Rodney was, after all, leading the way.

Sheppard left it up to Ronon to ride herd on the Scotsman. This screamed of deja-vu.

The colonel smiled at a few people, tipped his head in greeting and wished Rodney would stop walking and take the first empty table available.

McKay finally settled on a large round table near the fire.

"About damn time," Sheppard muttered when Rodney eventually dropped into a chair, which kept him faced into the fireplace and cooking pot.

Sheppard nodded in appreciation. McKay was an astounding genius in astrophysics and impressive in many more subjects, but he had been proving his ability to learn and learn quickly about things pertaining to survival with refreshing alacrity.

Beckett and McKay would sit with their backs to the room and the majority of the people leaving, Ronon, Sheppard and Teyla with an almost unobstructed view of the place and the single door.

Sheppard took his seat and smiled at the patrons that blatantly stared at them from the next table over. "Howdy, nice night," he offered as he took his seat. The patrons didn't respond and continued to stare.

He shrugged and worked to peel his SGA issued vest and jacket from his sodden back.

Their attention was diverted by a thickly muttered curse as Ronon 'guided' the doctor to the table by the back of his coat collar. Beckett muttered darkly about the Runner's lineage and lack of manners. His words were garbled and jumbled, muffling their articulation, however, his tone carried enough bite to send the message that he was more than just passingly displeased with being manhandled.

"Sit down, Carson," Rodney said leaning forward in his chair trying to get as close to the fire as possible without bursting into flames himself. Steam spiraled from his drenched coat.

"Drinks will be ready in a few moments," Ronon stated forcing the physician to sit.

Carson was about to snap another retort but was stopped by Sheppard's, "Can't afford having you fall into another all-out brawl. Weir was pretty upset about the last one."

Blue eyes flashed to the colonel in denial. The pink flush that had warmed Beckett's face for the last two days darkened. A thick hoarse comment was started, but tapered off as the Scot lost his voice. His mumbled a short action sentence involving a lewd act not typically spoken of in polite company. It clearly conveyed his ire.

The group sat quietly at the table, feeling the eyes of the room boring into them. Teyla smiled calmly to the others, hoping they could ignore the building tension.

Ronon surveyed the room keeping the others within his periphery. McKay stared at the hanging pot.

Beckett pushed his chair back, scraping it against the warped floor boards. "Drinks."

"Don't cause any trouble Doc," Sheppard warned.

"Lad, I--," His voice cut out, "raised--- place like--," Carson croaked. "The people -- simple folk -- break from -- everyday." Beckett's raspy voice faded to a breathless sigh. He held his forehead for a second closing his eyes and then turned and headed toward the standing bar that extended part way down the far wall.

"Trouble's going to find him," Rodney stated, "Or am I the only one who remembers the last time he went to get drinks?"

Sheppard and Teyla both nodded in agreement and started to rise.

"I will go," Ronon stated and pushed himself from the table and followed the doctor to the bar.

Teyla and Sheppard both settled back into their seats.

"Oh, that will so not help," Rodney muttered and slid down in his chair with a heavy sense of doom.

Sheppard was about to follow the Runner, and send Ronon and Carson back to their table. However, the serving girl, in a short sleeve ruffled white blouse and a dangerously low hung neckline had him sitting back down.

Beckett was probably right, these were just simple people looking to relax and stay out of the weather.

Teyla stared from the two men at her table to the serving girl and smiled tolerantly as the girl leaned over their table with a bit of exaggeration, placing hot bread in the center. She smiled sweetly at Rodney who failed to pull heavy eyes up from her vest lifted bust line to her startling yellow iris eyes. She was a blonde, though Teyla was unsure if McKay's eyes traveled that far upward.

Sheppard simply swallowed.

"Can I get you all something?" Her voice lilted quietly over the table and the low din of the room.

"Milk?" Rodney whimpered.

Sheppard slapped him off the back of the head.

Teyla sighed heavily, "Yes, five bowls of whatever you have cooking," she stated, indicating with a slight tilt of her head to the cooking pot resting over the flames of the central fire pit.

The blonde smiled graciously, quietly pleased with the effects her physical attributes had on the newcomers. She straightened up and headed toward the cauldron, winking at the regular patrons that watched her every move.

The astrophysicist watched her sashay away, but managed to pull his eyes from her other bulbous features when a sturdy kick to the shin under the table drew his attention. He gave Sheppard an impatient glare, but the Colonel merely raised his eyebrows in innocence and cocked his head to Teyla who stared at the two men with an amused glare.

McKay smiled weakly and let his eyes travel to the bar, searching out Ronon and Carson.

He found them.

Carson leaned heavily against the bar top rubbing at his forehead. Ronon stood beside him, picking at the palm of his hand with one of his throwing knives.

A large forester made himself comfortable at the bar and roughly shouldered Beckett out of his way.

Carson merely slid down the bar forcing Ronon to move a step.

"We've got trouble," McKay muttered as he turned his attention from the bar to the Colonel. "Why do you make him go off world again?"

"Shut up, Rodney," the colonel muttered, watching the antics at the bar and feeling as if he had already lived this nightmare.

Sheppard leaned forward in his chair and watched the two across the room. With an angry growl, he started to push himself to his feet. Couldn't Ronon and Beckett go anywhere without causing trouble? The colonel had already sworn off pairing McKay and Beckett together. He had hoped that the fiasco in the last tavern had been a matter of bad circumstances coming to a head at an inopportune time. Now, however, the colonel came to realize that Ronon, Beckett and taverns were just a bad mix. They were something akin to gasoline and flames.

"I will go," Teyla stated, pushing herself from the table, smiling patiently at the colonel and turning on her heel before Sheppard had a chance to order to her to stay.

The colonel held his tongue and let the Athosian go. Teyla was a much better diplomat than himself, and if it came to another furniture smashing brawl, Teyla was much better at hand to hand combat. Sheppard was more of a shoot'em and leave kind of guy.

"What is it with those two?" Sheppard muttered to himself as he watched Teyla smoothly insinuate herself between Beckett and the forester that wanted his attention.

Sheppard never saw Teyla pull the knife from the sheath at her waist band, never saw her slip it neatly up against the other man's abdomen, however, Sheppard did see her sweet toothy smile and the steely glint in her eyes.

The smile with the steady gaze was proof enough she had pulled a weapon and was explaining the difficulties that would arise should something amiss occur to one of her teammates.

Sheppard wasn't sure if Beckett would feel insulted at having a woman come to his aid, but knowing the doc, he didn't think Carson would care, especially if said woman was Teyla.

What amazed Sheppard the most was that the forester did not glance over Teyla's shoulder to look at the Runner who smiled at him like a hungry wolf would a lame deer.

The broad chested man kept his eyes firmly locked on the diminutive lithe figure in the deep grey uniform and an ice cold, amazingly white toothed smile.

The forester backed away, hands held out to his side in a placating gesture and left the three off worlders at the bar alone.

The rest of the inhabitants of the tavern seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and settled more easily into their chairs, tucked in closer to their steaming bowls of stew and chased any ill will away with deep draughts of ale.

Teyla snagged Dr. Beckett's upper arm and gave him the same intense smile and quietly urged him to their table without the added prompting of her blade.

Sheppard watched as Beckett sighed, scooped up five ales and headed back to their table. He paused when a barrage of coughs rattled through his chest and forced him to tuck his chin in close to his shoulder and raise the ales away from any potential airborne particles.

It didn't seem terribly effective. Sheppard wasn't that thirsty anyway.

The three continued to the table and Beckett put the thick glasses in the center and once again tucked his chin in close to his shoulder and turned his body and coughed heavily.

"Carson, that is just gross," Rodney whined, "did you have to cough all over the glasses?" McKay eyed the mugs warily trying to pick which ever one might have less contaminants on it. "That's disgusting, Carson. You've gone and polluted them all."

Beckett sat down heavily in his chair, his eyes watering and cheeks a deeper rosy color. He took Rodney's mug from the astrophysicist's hand and wiped the rim with the inner part of his sleeve. "There you go Rodney, all clean."

"I'm going to be ill," Rodney muttered.

Beckett's retort died on his lips as the young serving girl returned and leaned forward and started placing bowls in front of them.

"Shut your mouth, Carson," Rodney ordered with an air of superiority. "You're going to collect flies."

"Aye," Beckett mumbled, forgetting about his ale and ignoring his dinner as his eyes focused on the sagging neck line of the blonde girl.

"You two have to get out more," Sheppard softy stated to both scientists as the serving girl straightened, smiled at the men, scowled at Telya and left their table.

"Give it up doc," Sheppard shook his head. "She's not your type."

"Yeah, she's breathing," McKay explained.

* * *

**Part 5**

Teyla seamlessly interrupted the fast approaching, quick paced verbal duel before it had a chance to begin, "Perhaps it is best if we get rooms here for the night and travel the rest of the way to gate tomorrow." She did not think that the Lanteans respected the beliefs of other civilizations as seriously as they should. They, at times, believed too heavily in their own infallibility when dealing with cultures less advanced then their own. They tended to humor others less technologically developed, and dismissed cultural stories as mythical and unbelievable. It was a trait she feared would one day land them into much trouble.

"Oh please, you do not seriously believe that some beast roams the woods at night and eats people. There has got to be a perfectly good scientific explanation," Rodney dismissed and then paused a thoughtful look crossed his face before softly adding, "of course, I never would have believed anything about green skinned, space ship flying creatures that suck the life out of you with their hands either." He stopped and stared at the others before looking to the Colonel. "Perhaps we should stay the night."

"No roo--," Beckett's voice was lost under another bout of coughing that had him pushing away from the table and tucking his head with one hand up covering his mouth as the other gripped the edge of the table.

"The city is full," Ronon finished as the others watched and waited until Beckett finally straightened up, with unshed tears in bloodshot eyes. He slid back into the table and his bowl of stew.

"That could explain the empty villages we found," Teyla stated softly.

"Protection?" Beckett offered as way of an explanation. Perhaps the inhabitants of surrounding villages filtered into the small city on the nights the creature stalked the forest.

"You sure you're alright, Doc?" Sheppard asked.

"Of course he's not all right," Rodney interrupted Beckett as the Scotsman nodded his head. "Look at him. He looks like something Biro should be working on," McKay pointed out to the others and then turned his attention to the doctor. "Didn't they teach you anything in that voodoo school of yours about protection against contagions?"

"McKay," Sheppard warned seeing the put upon expression that marred Beckett's flushed features.

"I'm just saying, you'd think that the Chief Medical Officer would know how to protect himself from some harmless little bug."

"Doesn't look harmless," Ronon observed.

"It is not," Teyla added. "I believe it is from the smoke in the huts. They burn waste, it taints their lungs."

Sheppard arched an eyebrow at Beckett. The CMO merely shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea but it sounded like a good working hypothesis.

"You're not coughing," Ronon pointed out.

"I was not in huts as often or as long," Teyla clarified.

"Too bad, Carson, you don't have a strong constitution like myself and the colonel here," McKay boasted.

"Oh, don't drag me into this," Sheppard warned, leaning back in his chair putting some distance between himself and McKay.

The quiet conversation at the table was interrupted as a tall heavily muscled, middle-aged man stood behind Beckett's chair. "May I join you?" His grey hair and white whiskers were in shocking contrast to his wind burned face and deep yellow eyes. He kept an easy smile that refused to reveal any teeth. His clothes were well worn and threadbare but appeared well cared for.

All eyes turned to Sheppard who merely offered an open palm in invitation to the spot between Carson and Teyla. The man ignored the offered space and pulled a chair to the opposite side of the table beside Ronon and Sheppard. He too preferred to keep his back to the fire and face the door and windows.

"I am Linus,"

"Linus? Linus Pauling, perhaps?" McKay smirked unable to help himself, or bother hiding his sarcasm. He flinched when a boot connected solidly with his shin.

"I was thinking Linus Van Pelt of Charlie Brown," Sheppard murmured.

"You shouldn't think," McKay rebutted.

"I do no know a Charlie Brown," Linus answered slightly confused and a little more wary of the strangers. "I am Linus of the Brood of Wellox we are from the Western reaches of the forest."

"Don't mind him. We haven't house broke him yet for polite company," Sheppard said, titling his head toward McKay. "What can we help you with?" The colonel's smile remained open while he kept a foot ready under the table to kick McKay again if necessary.

"You are strangers here," Linus's statement almost had the intonation of a question.

"Observant," McKay's comment earned him a second kick.

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed, "we're from far off land." The colonel tried to ignore McKay's eye roll, knowing Linus was well aware of it.

Beckett's sudden bout of coughing pulled attention from the astrophysicist.

"You've been to the villages," Linus spoke directly to Carson who gripped the table one handed and doubled over, coughing into his fisted other hand. The muscles and blood vessels of his neck strained against taught skin as the bout of coughing continued. Tears glistened the corners of his closed eyes.

Beckett nodded, but Teyla answered, "Yes, Dr. Beckett is a healer. He tried to help some of the villagers."

"You spent too much time in the huts," Linus stated as Beckett straightened, hauling in a quick breath rubbing ruefully at his chest just before a second round of fiery coughs stole his wind.

Linus watched nodding knowingly, "They burn poison in their fires. The smoke slowly kills them so the Howler will not."

The table was quiet just for a moment before Rodney suddenly spoke up, "Whoa, whoa wait a minute, Carson here isn't going to die…right?" McKay turned his worried, wide eyes from their guest to Beckett. Carson's coughing had finally tapered off and he slowly straightened up, wiping tears from blood shot eyes.

"You're not dying. Right?"

"Ach, No, Rodney, not yet," Carson mumbled reaching a shaky hand for his ale. His throat burned sending tendrils of discomfort from his chest to his ears.

"He's not dying," Rodney turned his attention and fear fueled anger back at Linus.

"No, not now, but the poison is in his lungs. It sits." Linus directed his attention to the healer. "You are lucky. You will be safe from the Howler this night."

"What is this Howler?" Teyla's concerned question was softened by her congenial smile.

"It is a creature of the forest. It roams on the quarter moon. It devours any who venture into the forest."

"Yeah, we heard all that, saw signs of it a few days ago," Sheppard stated, then added, "just how long does the quarter moon last?"

"Five daily cycles," Linus informed. "It attacks only the healthy. It leaves the sick to die on their own." He stared pointedly at Beckett who rested his head heavily in his hand and ran his spoon uninterestedly through his soup.

"Well, we're pretty good at taking care of ourselves," Sheppard offered with a crooked smirk and slightly forced bravado. He shared a confident look with Ronon.

McKay's incredulous squeak earned him a third kick to the shin.

"We noticed a lot of the villages were empty, looked like the Howler might have attacked one of them," Sheppard said, pulling Linus's attention away from McKay who now leaned forward against the table and rubbed at his shin.

"Why do you not form hunting bands and track this creature down and kill it?" Ronon's question held undisguised disgust and confusion. People should face their monsters and demons and not hide from them.

"Some of the villagers flee their homes and seek protection within our city walls," Linus spoke quietly, wrapping his hands around his mug, "but others, those who are cursed, enter into the forest and undergo the change. Only the strongest survives to hunt the forest on the quarter moon."

"Oh wait just one second," McKay sat up. "Are you telling me some of those pathetic villagers actually go into the woods and become this creature?"

The Lanteans all stared at Linus.

"Some become Howlers, but only one will survive to hunt the forest."

"People actually transform…" Beckett's voice faded out. His red rim eyes almost glazed over at the thought of the genetics involved. The possibility of obtaining tissue, DNA samples and extracting sequences and studying them was fascinating.

"We've lost him," McKay muttered to Sheppard as the astrophysicist watched Beckett. The Colonel merely nodded, waiting for Linus's answer.

"Yes." Linus nodded understanding what the healer was trying to say. "You are safe; however, you carry the poison of the fires in your lungs. The Howler will not eat your flesh."

"Oh great, Wheezy here, is safe to die another day while the rest of use are walking entrees…soft on the outside, chewy and crunchy on the inside. I've been reduced to a Snicker's bar."

"McKay," Sheppard said tiredly, "relax, we're not going anywhere. We'll wait 'til light before we head out."

"You are not safe here. There is no room for you. You are strangers and will not get shelter from those within the city. You must leave."

"What?" McKay asked, startled. "You just told us that the forest is full of these Howler creatures that are going to rip us to shreds and eat us, minus Carson, and we can't stay here?"

"You, you would not be eaten," Linus stated quite confidently. "The Howler attacks and feeds on warriors. It destroys the strongest and the fittest. It leaves the weak and sick to die on their own." He made eye contact with McKay and then Beckett, "you two will survive to die another day, maybe."

"Look, we'll just we stay right here---keep out of everyone's way and," Sheppard stared pointedly at Beckett, "not cause any trouble and wait for morning." He found no solace in the idea that only the two doctors would survive this night.

"You are not welcomed." Linus leaned forward staring intently at the strangers. "When the rain breaks, you will be forced to leave." Linus turned his attention to the rest of the inhabitants of the tavern. The members of SGA-1 followed his gaze and found the rest of the occupants staring at them with ill will and primitive, but effective, weapons suddenly within view. Linus turned his attention back to the table's occupants. "Outsiders are not welcomed during the cycle of the quarter moon. It is better that strangers get eaten by the Howler than our own."

"We can defend ourselves against you," Teyla pointed out kindly.

"We will kill you all. Even if all of us," Linus indicated the patrons of the tavern, "fall to your weapons, you will die this evening, even your non-warriors. You will not live through the night if you remain within the city. You are not welcomed. When the weather breaks, you are free to go. Try your fate at reaching the Ring of Water. You will not survive here." Linus pushed himself from his chair and stood.

Beckett started another bout of powerful coughs.

"He's not going to die, right?" Sheppard asked as Beckett bowed forward, the top of his head resting against the edge of the table as deep muscle tearing coughs wracked his frame. The back of his neck turned a deep shade of crimson as strap muscles and ligaments stood taut under flushed skin.

"No, the poison is cleared after sometime if one leaves the huts." He stared at Beckett, "You are better to keep moving to allow the lungs to clear." Linus picked up his ale, and straightened. "But once the poison abates, a person is no longer protected from the Howler." Linus smiled tightly. "When the weather breaks, you must leave or you will die here tonight---all of you."

Ronon snarled and seemed ready to face the tavern and its occupants head on, right then and there, and Teyla, with lip curled in disgust, appeared willing to follow his or Sheppard's lead whoever should act first.

"Thanks for the friendly tip. We'll keep it in mind." Sheppard smiled with plastic friendliness and waved.

Linus left their table and filtered back across the room to the far end of the standing bar.

The occupants of the tavern stared at the table of strangers for only a few silent seconds before returning to their meals and conversations.

"Well that was informative," McKay muttered.

"Dr. Beckett?" Teyla inquired with some concern to the now silent physician who sat with his head down on the edge of the table. Carson simply raised his hand and dismissively waved at the table in general indicating he was okay.

"Say something and we'll leave you alone, doc," Sheppard ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

"Fine---I'm fine," Beckett's harsh rasp grated across the table, though he had yet to lift his head.

"Oh that's believable," McKay muttered disgustedly.

Carson slowly sat up, his face deep red and his eyes tearing. He tucked in carefully to the table.

"The Wraith would not find you appetizing," Ronon quietly observed.

Beckett smiled a sarcastic 'thank-you' at the runner and sipped his ale.

Teyla stared at the thick windows on the far wall and listened to the rain lash against the glass. "The storm will break soon. We must decide what to do for the night."

"Doc, you good enough to hoof it back to the gate tonight?" Sheppard asked.

"Ay---," Beckett rasped as his voice once again faded.

"Why are you asking him? Look at him!" Rodney gesticulated with his hands. "He looks like shit, he's not thinking right. There's some creature roaming around the woods at night, emptying out forests, slinging horses and dogs into trees and sucking the marrow out of bones---and you ask the one person in our group with hardly any off world experience and probably some fungus growing in his lungs what he wants to do?" McKay's incredibility was easily seen and heard.

Sheppard looked to Beckett and then to McKay. "Yup."

"The human was in the tree," Ronon clarified. "The little creature was on the roof of the hut and ground."

McKay tossed his hands up into the air. "This is great. We're doomed. Doomed. Some saliva slinging monster is going to rip us to shreds, and suck the marrow from our bones like Pixy Stix, but not to worry, Colonel Sheppard and Fungus Lung here, want to go home."

"I agree with fungus lungs," Ronon informed.

Beckett moaned in disgust and cradled his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and could feel the trapped heat of a low-grade fever. After a slight pause, he lowered his head to his crossed forearms and rested them on the edge of the table. He relished the dry heat of the fire.

"There is no place to stay," Teyla re-iterated.

"See, McKay, all settled. We finish eating and head for the gate," Sheppard smiled wisely at the astrophysicist and dug into his meal.

"This is a bad idea," McKay muttered loud enough for all at his table to hear him.

"Listen, McKay, we can't stay. Even if we did survive a fight in here, there's a whole city that will be gunning for us. We don't have enough munitions to take on a whole city," Sheppard paused and then added, "unless you want to rally around the 'Alamo'?"

McKay shot Sheppard a scathing look and softly added, "This is a galactic sized stupid idea."

Sheppard hesitated in bringing his spoon to his lips and contemplated the disgusted and worried look of one very serious Rodney McKay.

The colonel felt his resolve waiver.

_McKay was rarely wrong. Maybe they should remember the Alamo._


	5. Chapter 6

(okay better, remember chapter 5 is under/with chapter 4)

**Part 6**

"Come on, Doc, move a little faster," Sheppard muttered to the lagging physician, as the group walked single file along a twisting, turning mud path.

Drizzle misted down on them, creating a soft whitish film of moisture on coated shoulders, vests and ball caps.

Sheppard kept his gloved hands wrapped loosely around his P-90 as he surveyed the thick blackness of the surrounding forest. Large trees loomed overhead for as far as the eye could see, expanding around them in all directions. The muddied path wove and tangled its way between the solid trunks as low sweeping branches curled toward the muddied ground before swooping back up.

The heavy, low clouds were camouflaged behind the towering, sweeping branches of the massive trees. Trees stretched and twisted upward, gnarling and entangling their branches with their neighbors as they scratched for the sky.

The path wound and arched east and west, sometimes dipping south before yearning northward. Visibility dimmed to only a few yards. Through a silvery curtain of sheeting drizzle, Sheppard could just make out Ronon's tall frame as the Runner led the way through the forest to the gate.

Teyla followed only a few short feet behind, then McKay and Beckett, leaving Sheppard to bring up the rear.

No one spoke.

The sound of the rain pelting tree needles and the click of branches in the constant breeze filled the night.

Footfalls were dulled by the heavy mud that caked itself to the underside and lateral parts of boots making legs, weary with the added weight. Every footfall flexed aching muscles under saturated clothing.

Cloth clung to damp skin, molding with chilled tissue. With every movement, the soaked cloth peeled back, pulling at standing hair and chaffing tender skin. Wrinkled heels rubbed raw under folded soaked socks as the underside of toes cracked and split. Socks slid forward in damp boots balling in tight wads under toes.

Beckett hunched forward and hacked again. He struggled for breath between intermittent clusters of coughing. His pace suffered as energy was diverted from walking to fighting for breath.

The sounds were intrusive. They felt overtly loud.

Sheppard watched as McKay cringed and peered over his bowed shoulders to stare at him in askance. Rodney kept his neck turtled in tight as protection against the rain and wind. A look of concern and blatant fear seared his clear blue eyes as he squinted against the freezing rain.

They were just halfway to the gate and Sheppard felt the impending sense of doom that was so easily read in McKay's eyes.

"Come on Doc, pick up the pace," Sheppard encouraged as Beckett once again slowed his steps as his chest expanded and shoulders lifted. He fought to haul in painful gasps of air.

They weren't going to make it to the gate.

* * *

The drizzle transformed to a hard relentless rain. Freezing fat droplets hurtled toward the planet surface with brutal intensity.

Visibility suddenly reduced itself to only a few scant yards, forcing the five members of SGA team to bunch closer together.

They had been reduced to a single, large, walking target.

A sudden violent clash of thunder exploded overhead.

Guns came up and people halted, dropping their stances, instinctively lowering their centers of gravity and searching the solid surrounding darkness that encased them on the narrow trail.

Sheppard flicked the safety off on his P-90.

Teyla placed her fighting sticks in her bag and hefted her P90. She rolled her shoulders and neck, loosening her muscles, trying to relax and remain impervious to the rain that beat down upon her.

Ronon slowly lifted his pistol from its holster. His eyes roved the impenetrable blackness as instincts screamed.

"Its here." Ronon's soft proclamation came as no surprise, but still hearts quickened and adrenaline levels soared.

Without direction, McKay stepped back and stood with Beckett.

"McKay," Sheppard warned.

"I know, I know," Rodney hissed, letting his eyes search the formless darkness that enveloped them.

"What?" Beckett rasped, fearing he already knew the answer. His skin crawled with the prickly sense of unseen danger.

Broad sheet lightning lit the night as flashing zigzagging bolts spidered across the sky, stretching toward the ground.

For a brief moment of time, the forest around them was lit brighter than a summer's mid afternoon. Bare skeletal trunks stretched for as far as the eye could see in all directions.

Another explosive roll of thunder shook the ground and rattled the teeth of those exposed on the wooded path.

"Colonel?" Telya swung her head left and right searching the East and West sides of the trail leaving the point position to Ronon to watch and their six for the Colonel to keep safe.

"Keep moving," Sheppard whispered, "McKay, Beckett, stick close to one another. If I tell you to do something you do it. Understood?"

Beckett knew the orders were directed to him, "Aye," he whispered softly, the pain in his chest and the ache in his muscles suddenly disappeared.

Carson squinted his eyes trying to make out shapes through the thick curtain of rain, trying to keep an eye on Ronon as the big runner slid in and out of view. Beckett dropped his hand to the revolver strapped low on his hip. The first time he had worn it, it had felt like an anomaly, a sudden unwanted cancerous growth that weighed him down and chafed his skin. Over time, he had come to accept the weapon, even though he loathed its presence. The gun was required, his improving skill essential, he just wished he could avoid situations that proved them indispensable. He unclipped the safety snap that kept the weapon secure in its holster. His reddened right hand hung close to the weapon but left it alone. There was no sense picking at a growth that would not be removed.

Ronon fought the urge that screamed at him to leave the trail and circle around to the East then North. They were being hunted. He could feel it. Something stalked them from behind the cascading shower of rain. Had he been alone, he would have left the trail, circled around and attacked the very thing that mistakenly saw him as prey.

However, he led the others through the forest despite the fact Sheppard and Teyla were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Beckett and McKay would try, but didn't  
have the skill or expertise. Ronon's responsibility stretched passed his own personal safety. It was a strange sense of duty toward others he had not felt for almost seven years. Yes, he had kept himself isolated from villages and communities during his years as a runner, but he did it as much for his own safety as for those around him. He needed room to move, to maneuver and there were those fickle and foolish few who would betray him for the empty promises made by Wraith hunters.

The Runner refused to look over his shoulder at the two doctors that trudged forward nestled between the others. They had good instincts, Ronon had seen that time and time again. McKay, though vocal in his dislike for everything but well endowed blondes, was a capable individual, floundering his way successfully through one skirmish after another. Sheppard had reined McKay in and trained him well. It elevated Ronon Dex's opinion of the Colonel that much higher.

Ronon knew Beckett had the instinct to survive, however, the doctor's instincts seemed to pause or short circuit if something presented itself as injured. It had been reported that Beckett had lowered his weapon when confronted with an injured Wraith and had offered it aid even as the Wraith reached for its self-destruct mechanism. However, as with McKay, Beckett had closed ranks around Dr. Weir and had protected her from the invisible creature created by the ancients. Though he fired his gun with his eyes closed he had stood before the creature to protect one of his own even after witnessing the creature's strength and speed. The courage and strength were there, however, the doctor's natural skill needed honing and the confidence that he displayed within the confines of the infirmary and surgery room needed to be uncovered and applied to the field.

Forcing Beckett into military training would not work; Ronon had already witnessed the bullheaded determination the Scot exhibited when bucking against an authority he did not recognize.

Once again, Ronon found himself admiring Sheppard's tact and skill at handling the non-military types and getting them trained and proficient with military weapons and tactics.

McKay and Beckett were civilians, out of their element, out of their respective fields of discipline, however they had the skills to survive. Sheppard was slowly sharpening those skills.

They were by no means helpless.

Ronon kept his eyes forward and tried to see past the shimmering screen of falling rain and deeper into the cloaking blackness of night.

Thunder cracked overhead rattling the small bones of the inner ear.

Lightning flashed once again lighting the area with near blinding brilliance.

The dark grey trunks of rain soaked trees stood out like ghastly sentries. The muddied trail suddenly illuminated showing its endless twisting turning route through the wood.

Ronon felt his pulse race as fear spiked sending his heart hammering wildly in his chest. With dilated eyes, he snapped his head left and right. The creature was dangerously close.

Dex began swinging to his right, bringing his gun up level.

There, at the edge of the tortuous trail, crouched the snarling and hairless Howler. Its broad flattened head hung low just above its outstretched massive front paws. Forelimb muscles stood taut under a yellowish, thick, rhinoceros like hide. Massive haunches were coiled under lean flanks and the sharp delineating ridge of ribs stretched under the sinewy muscles of the thorax. The thick heavy muscles of the skull pulled short triangular ears back. Lips were curled exposing rows of pointed teeth.

Bolt lightning criss-crossed the sky. Sheet lightning strobed without dimming.

The beast screamed as it leaped.

Ronon didn't finish his spin as he dropped to one knee. He was still bringing up his weapon when the lightning blinked out.

Blackness fell upon them like a collapsing drape.

The crash of bodies was deafening in the suffocating darkness.

"Get down!" Sheppard shouted running forward gun held stiff armed before him.

Beckett and McKay dropped to the mud. Teyla stood before them with her P-90 held at chest height.

The cracking sound of Sheppard's P-90 was muffled over the incessant pounding rain and another horrific blast of thunder.

Lightning flashed.

Beckett and McKay stared wide-eyed at the trail ahead of them. "I told you this was a bad idea," Rodney muttered. "No one listens."

"Aye, we do," Beckett mumbled trying to suppress the building explosion of coughs, "just no choice tonight."

"There's always a choice," McKay hissed.

The trail was empty as it wound its way deeper into the forest. The creature was gone.

Sheppard stood over Ronon, his gun tracking where his eyes searched. Ronon lay twisted and folded in the mud unmoving.

"Doc!" Sheppard hollered over the rain. He furtively scanned the brightened trees before the lightning blinked out.

Beckett and McKay scrambled to their feet. They ran and slipped their way toward the fallen runner. Teyla took up position behind them watching their back trail.

The physician immediately felt for a jugular pulse with one hand while assessing the Runner's breathing with his other.

McKay rustled through his vest and pulled out his small flashlight and twisted it on.

"Aye, thanks Rodney," there was a calmness to Beckett's voice that had Sheppard thankful that Weir had chosen the Scot as their CMO. The man kept his cool when things tumbled around him. There were no hysterics, no dramatics, no disbelief or wasted antics. That would come later, when the danger was passed and lights were on and no one else was around. The panic and incredulousness would hit then in the privacy of a calm moment.

Not before then.

When needed, the doc became exceedingly focused and economical. He did his job ignorant of the forces around him. He'd work to protect his patient in amidst chaos and violence. And at one time, Sheppard had wanted to break the Scot of that fierce pinpoint concentration, but had hesitated. It was the same type of fine needled focus that drove Rodney to brilliance. The two mirrored one another; one in hard science where the physical world threatened to collapse or explode around him and destroy those with him; and the other worked with fervor amidst blood, gore and failing individual lives. McKay and Beckett threw themselves with abandon into their individual worlds of expertise with the similar goal of saving lives. Their fine laser focus, their intense scrutiny of the problem at hand often put their lives in peril. It was then that the teams and expedition members proved their loyalty and immense courage. They protected the exposed, vulnerable flanks of McKay and Beckett.

The medical doctor held his light in his teeth as he quickly ran his eyes and hands over Ronon. He hadn't needed to feel for a pulse to know the runner lived, however training dictated rote actions. Ronon's breath crystallized with each exhale. Blood had splashed onto Dex's neck and face. Beckett recognized the splash pattern and piled large square quick clot gauze onto shredded wounds that furrowed Ronon's shoulder. Dex's coat, shirt and chest were torn and mangled, blood soaked the fabric and mingled freely with the falling rain. With bloodied hands, Beckett slapped pad after pad over the wounds and worked quickly to secure them. In his periphery, the doctor took note of the twisted forearm.

It would need implants. Beckett's mind was already running through plate sizes, number of screws and wires that would be needed, what type of immobilizing splint would he utilize. Without meaning too, and with his focus on the bleeding shoulder, images of plates, screws and external fixation devices flashed through his mind like a child's view finder going high speed.

With the shoulder secure, Beckett turned his attention to the lower arm.

Ronon's gun arm was twisted at an awkward angle just below the elbow. The skin remained intact. With a steady hand, Beckett felt for a radial pulse. Educated fingers found nothing. Beckett stole a breath, calmed himself and searched again. Nothing. He moved his muddied fingertips slightly distal…nothing, slightly more proximal---nothing---more medial--- then lateral still searching. Nothing.

"Damn," Carson mumbled. "Rodney switch places with me," Beckett moved around the astrophysicist without waiting for an answer. McKay shuffled with an agility that belied his stature and was up and around Beckett and at Ronon's head waiting for the next set of orders.

"Hold his arm just below the elbow, here," Beckett instructed, putting McKay's cold hands on the Runner's broken arm where he wanted them. "Hold it tight." Without warning, Beckett grabbed Ronon's wrist, gave it a quick solid tug and twist.

Dex screamed arching his back.

Sheppard shot a pained grimace at the trio on the ground and re-affirmed his believe that he hated field medicine. Appreciated it, but hated it.

Rodney ground his teeth and his stomach turned at the feel of bones moving and grating against one another as they ground and fell into place.

Beckett felt for a pulse while maintaining pressure on the wrist.

"Okay, keep the tension Rodney, and hand me that splint," Beckett spoke quietly and encouragingly to McKay. "Doing good Rodney, keep hold a little bit longer." With one hand Beckett secured the runner's newly straightened limb into the hard splint and wrapped it the best he could. He felt for a radial pulse as he worked. It bounded effortlessly if not a little too rapidly under his dirty finger tips.

"Easy lad," Beckett muttered and quickly wrapped the arm within a firm splint the best he could one handed while holding tension on the wrist. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't done with text book precision, but it was done.

"Okay, Rodney let go." The astrophysicist let go and felt the bone edges settle against one another. The pulse remained strong. Carson breathed a sigh of relief. He could repair the bones later.

"Switch with me again, Rodney," Beckett scooted back up near the Runner's head.

A large laceration curved around the runner's forehead to his temple, tangled hair matted the wound as blood streamed and ran down his slack features mixing with the rain and mud. Beckett took the 4x4 gauze pads handed to him by McKay and slapped them over the wound. The blood and rain would adhere them to the laceration.

"Doc?" Sheppard's voice was both asking and warning. He stood at the foot of the runner sweeping the area with his eyes and gun.

Teyla stood opposite and fought to see through the drenching rain.

"He's alive," Beckett answered.

"That's great, but I need him on his feet," Sheppard bit out, well aware that Beckett wouldn't waste time treating a corpse.

"I'm hurrying," Beckett stated.

"Come on, Doc," Sheppard's tense order sparked the atmosphere reminding the doctor that danger still circled them in the shrouding cover of rain and darkness.

"Give me a moment," Beckett whispered as he dug through his pack again looking for smelling salts, knowing that he shouldn't use them but feared what would happen if Ronon did not regain his feet quickly.

"We do not have a moment, Doctor," Teyla added with a note of caution to Beckett not to dally.

Thunder rocked the night.

Lightning sparked the area.

The Howler was in the air, just inches from Sheppard.

Massive extended front legs with lion-like claws collided with the Colonel.


	6. Chapter 7

My bad again. One should not post a story and exercise at the same time. Errors tend to occur. The ending is written (as previously stated) but I don't like it. Must work on it, flesh it out etc. Must post sloooowwwwerrr. Much slllloooowwwerrrrr. Must go slllooowwwwwerrrrrr.

**Part 7**

Sheppard's head snapped into the creature's massive cranium while his shoulders and thorax were punched in the opposite direction. Sheppard was thrown from his feet deeper into the forest, his coat collar hooked on the curved lower carnassal tooth of the beast.

The lightning dissipated. Thick blackness suddenly denied dilated eyes of usable light.

The sounds of tearing cloth and flesh mingled with frantic cries and sporadic gunfire.

"Shit!" Rodney screamed and scrambled for his holstered gun while pivoting on his knees. He drew and fired blindly in the direction of the creature. He paused when the screeching and tearing stopped.

Rain pelted the ground nothing more than a mere background hum to the deafening silence.

Teyla leaped over the Runner and Beckett and ran into the cloaking blackness of the forest in the direction in which the Colonel had been thrown and dragged.

McKay held his gun ready in trembling hands. He cocked his head to the side listening intently to the noises around him.

"Rodney?" Beckett called nervously just as his fingers found the smelling salts within a small container in his bag. He dragged them out and cracked one open.

"Keep working, Carson," McKay answered raising himself to his feet with both hands curled tightly around his revolver. He placed himself with uncertainty between Beckett, Ronon and the blackened forest where Sheppard, the Howler and Teyla disappeared.

His heart hammered wildly in his chest. He clasped the gun tightly and squeezed the grip with an intensity that left his fine forearm muscles bulging.

Where ever his eyes swung, the barrel followed. Rain hissed as it hit the heated short barrel.

"Telya!" Rodney called.

The sound of rain beating foliage filled the silence.

"Teyla? Colonel?" Rodney shouted again.

Rain pummeled the ground. The soft whisper of Beckett's hoarse voice urging Ronon to consciousness gurgled in the background.

"I am here, Dr. McKay. Do not shoot," Teyla answered as she melted from behind the sheet of fiercely falling rain, backpeddling, dragging the Colonel from under his arms.

Rodney's attention was suddenly split from Teyla and her burden to Beckett who unexpectedly let out a yelp and was flung backward.

McKay swung around, bringing his gun up level to fire at the creature that had somehow managed to circle around them frightfully fast. Instead, he found himself aiming at the Runner with his fingers, just mere millimeters from squeezing the trigger.

"Oh God," Rodney whispered, dropping his gun toward the ground, unabashed fear and immense relief thudding through his body.

Ronon staggered to his feet swinging blindly. McKay backed away.

"Ronon! Stop!" Teyla shouted with firm authority Rodney had never heard before. The Runner stopped moving and weaved in a circular motion in place.

Beckett rolled to his stomach and groaned as he pushed himself to his hands and knees spitting blood into the mud.

"You okay, Carson?" McKay asked; his eyes never stopped searching the thick blackness of the surrounding forest yet still kept the swaying Runner within his peripheral vision.

"Aye," Beckett whispered and lurched to his feet. He stood for a moment arms out trying to maintain his balance and then weaved and stumbled his way back to Rodney.

"Dr. Beckett, Colonel Sheppard needs your help," Teyla stated in her no-nonsense way. It seemed to snap the Scotsman from his daze. "Aye lass, seems to be the night for it. Bring him closer to Rodney's light." Beckett grabbed his own fallen light, missed and tried again. He lost his balance and nearly toppled forward onto his knees.

He clumsily shuffled forward and began to examine the Colonel.

An explosion of coughs burst forth, sending Beckett to his hands, submerging part of the flashlight into the soft mud of the trail. Carson fought for breath. After what seemed and eternity, the wracking coughs subsided. He managed to haul in a draught of air and straighten up.

"You must hurry, Doctor," Teyla ordered.

"Aye lass," Beckett mumbled again. He wiped his hands ineffectually against his soaked clothing swiping chunks of mud from his hands. He quickly and smoothly ran his hands over Sheppard's torso letting his touch see more than his eyes ever could in this storm and poor light.

He grimaced when a misaligned rib was palpated. Sheppard groaned and rolled his head. Blood and mud matted the back of the Colonel's head forcing Carson to run his hands over the scalp. He found a large knot already started to form.

"Easy, Colonel," Beckett muttered again, swinging his attention to the torn jacket at the shoulder that was tacky with warm blood. The doctor silently slapped large gauze squares under the shirt to cover the furrowing wounds that tore across the side and front of Sheppard's upper chest and arm. Beckett rotated the shoulder, feeling for any undo laxity or grating within the ball and socket joint.

Sheppard groaned again and suddenly snapped upright swinging.

Beckett was knocked backward into the mud, arms out flung to either side.

"Colonel Sheppard," Teyla called out in her cutting, commanding voice. Sheppard paused and grabbed at his side, falling back into the mud and curling up. "Wha? What happened?"

"Nothing. Can you stand?" Rodney asked.

McKay reached down trying to maintain his attention on the surrounding forest and grabbed the Colonel by his good upper arm. He helped Sheppard stagger to his feet. The colonel weaved a bit more and leaned heavily on McKay causing both men to stagger to the side.

"A little help here, Colonel," Rodney breathed nearly tumbling to the ground with the unexpected weight.

"Dr. Beckett," Teyla called, "gather your things we must leave this place." The Athosian watched as the medical doctor rolled to his stomach and again climbed unsteadily to his knees. Beckett started shoving his supplies quickly into his pack. He gathered the flashlights and pushed himself to trembling feet.

"Colonel Sheppard, are you capable of walking on your own?" Teyla asked.

"Ah, yeah sure," Sheppard muttered and stumbled once more into McKay, nearly knocking the astrophysicist to the ground.

"I've got'im," Rodney said as he slipped the Colonel's good arm around his shoulders.

"Ronon," Teyla pointedly turned the name into a question.

"I am good," Ronon answered with only a hint of his former self. He hefted his pistol in his good hand and continued to search the darkness for the elusive creature.

"Let us go. We must make for the gate," Telya led the way with Rodney and Sheppard behind her, followed by Beckett. Ronon brought up the rear.

Teyla led them swiftly down the path. With each step Sheppard's foot placements became more sure, more solid. After a few hundred yards, McKay merely had to keep the Colonel walking in the correct direction and answer the same repeated questions Sheppard mumbled every few steps.

Thunder shook the sky.

Lightning exposed more of the forest.

The Howler sprang at them from the left, dragging Teyla off her feet and into an unseen small stream before anyone could garner enough reaction to gasp.

* * *

Ronon fired his pistol. 

Beckett dove belly first to the ground as red energy blasts scoured just above his shoulder.

McKay let go of Sheppard and fired in the direction of the creature.

The Howler sprung from the stream and into the shadowed depths of the forest.

The area was blanketed in suffocating darkness.

Sheppard started spiraling toward the ground.

Coughing, Beckett scrambled to his feet and rushed down the bank, arms windmilling, and into the stream. His feet slipped on the moss covered rocks and he fell hard onto his back and pack submerging under the icy water. The chill stole the breath from his lungs and squeezed his head in a vice like grip. He shot upward, flailing his arms and gasping for air. His foot hit something soft and pliable.

The doctor scrambled forward over his knees reaching for and grabbing a fistful of Teyla's coat. He hauled her up out of the water and lunged for the bank. They landed solidly in a tangled heap with Beckett partially on top of the unconscious Athosian.

"Carson?" McKay hollered. The astrophysicist stood a few yards away on the trail. He kept a tight grip on Sheppard while trying to keep Ronon from charging out after the beast.

"A moment, just a moment," Beckett whispered back hoarsely. A string of harsh coughs erupted without warning and seared his chest. They dropped him back to his hands and knees.

Teyla groaned and rolled her head while bending her knee.

Beckett quickly ran his hands over her head and neck. His hand came away slick with heavy warm blood after touching a large laceration just above and behind her left ear.

"Oh lass," Beckett mumbled. He ran his hands down her chest, to her abdomen finding nothing obviously broken or torn. He slid his hands quickly down her legs and arms finding nothing misaligned or terribly torn. The head wound, however, worried him.

"Okay, lass, time to wake up," Beckett tried to gently coax her awake by softly tapping her cheek. No success. The smelling salts failed. She twitched and moved but nothing that resembled coordinated conscious effort.

"Carson," Rodney spoke again. He stood on the path holding onto Sheppard's upper arm while gripping his revolver. He kept his eye on Ronon who stared into the forest as if willing the creature to try and attack again.

"She's out cold," Beckett's raspy voice trailed up over the small stream bank and back to McKay.

"Well, do something," McKay ordered.

"Like what," Beckett shot back.

"How should I know," McKay snapped. "You're the voodoo expert."

"Aye," Beckett whispered to himself. Under ideal circumstances or even under not so good situations, the doctor knew just how wrong it was to move an unsecured, unconscious patient. He knew the risks, understood the reasons behind not moving a person who had not been immobilized and feared what further damage he could do.

However, no one in medical school or in his years of residency or even in practice, ever indicated what to do when on an alien planet with a hell spawn demon attacking you in the middle of rain storm on the quarter moon.

It was somehow missed in his education.

Someone failed to mention the proper protocol as to what to do if some giant alien creature was trying to eat you while you traipsed through the woods minding your own damn business.

_It was like Little Red Riding Hood---without Little Red and without the Grandma---and, well, without the basket---the blasted wolf was damn near smack on target. Well not really. So it really wasn't like Little Red Riding Hood at all…._

"Carson?" Rodney's impatient sarcastic tone cut through Carson's wild thoughts.

Beckett found himself getting irritated.

He had a thing or two he'd like to teach to medical students if he ever had a chance. He'd teach a class about what you really saw when you left academia or your home galaxy for that matter. He'd teach them about life sucking creatures, populations bent on genocide in hopes of saving themselves, bugs that hated salt water and sucked life from their host. Oh, he would teach the students a thing or two about what really happened when they left the protective confines of the academic world and the comfortable little unknowns found on Earth.

"Dreadfully sorry, lass," Beckett muttered and with a sigh he sat Teyla up and draped her across the back of his shoulders clasping one of her wrists and one of her ankles across his chest in his hand. He then struggled to his feet, praying his knees remained in tact and pulled himself up the bank and back onto the path.

His quadriceps burned fiercely and his knees popped. The skin of his neck pinched under the rough folding of his coarse coat.

The icy rain matted his hair to his head.

When he straightened he came face to face with the business end of Ronon's fancy red firing gun.

"Ahh lad," Beckett wheezed, "I'm on your side."

"Oh." Ronon lowered his gun.

"Let's move it, people," Rodney ordered. He grabbed Sheppard by the upper arm and began leading them down the path toward the gate. The Colonel attempted to wrestle his arm free a few times but McKay's curt, "Knock it off." Had Sheppard cease his uncoordinated struggles.

The easy acquiescence from Sheppard frightened Carson on more levels than he cared to examine. The head wound was serious and their leader and friend was not in his right mind.

They had no more military aces. Ronon was running on blind instinct.

Carson hitched his gait, tossing Teyla slightly in the air to loosen the wrinkled folds of his coat that snared his skin. The Athosian's weight quickly settled heavily across his shoulders refolding pinched skin.

Beckett wheezed and huffed behind Rodney and the colonel practically jogging trying to keep up. His lower back burned, matching the complaint of his upper legs. His stomach knotted as abdominal muscles tightened and strained with the effort to keep his upper and lower body aligned. Exertional nausea bubbled his stomach. His chest tickled, threatening to erupt with another breath stealing bout of coughing.

Ronon brought up the rear searching the forest for any sign of the creature.

The DHD would be in the glade just behind the next bend in the trail.


	7. Chapter 8

this part was suppose to wait until tomorrow, but I'm riding the bike of Doom and needed something to do. Here it is. I'm no good with slower unless its related to the bike---swimming (I float pretty fast)---running (walking---its all the same speed right?), shoveling (If its snow it'll melt- eventually), Laundry (normally try and wait to see if it jumps in the washer itself).

**Part 8**

"There it is." Rodney paused at the edge of the forest and stared at the outline of the DHD and gate ring that sat in the middle of a good size grassy glade. Torrential showers obscured any detail and had they not known that the gate was there they might have not seen it at all.

Rain hammered the wilting grass, beating it back down into the saturated soil.

Thunder rolled from their left, increasing in intensity as if building steam. It clashed overhead with vicious intensity.

Beckett unconsciously tightened his grip on Teyla's wrist and ankle, keeping the Athosian more secure across his shoulders and within his grip.

He shrugged slightly tossing her body weight a little more into the air to relieve the pinching pressure on his skin. His soaked jacket and shirt remained stubbornly adhered to his skin keeping it crinkled as Teyla's weight re-settled heavily across his shoulders.

"Go," Ronon nudged Carson out of the trees and into the clearing.

Beckett suddenly had the urge to step back into the trees, into the camouflage of the foliage. He tried to look left and right, but his neck and shoulders were bowed forward and cramped. His head was forced downward, his neck bent by Teyla's unmoving form.

"Come on, Colonel," Rodney muttered and tugged the Colonel with him as he stepped from the cover of the forest and followed Carson across the glade.

As a group, they walked hurriedly toward the DHD. Carson fell behind Rodney and Sheppard as he sunk deeper into the soft ground with each footfall. Mud sucked at his boots, threatening to pull them from his feet and weighting the soles down. His pruned heels slid against his wet socks and the firm stitching of his boots. The tender skin peeled and scraped away leaving unseen rust colored stains on his socks.

Lightning flashed, strobing across the sky. The darkness disappeared as the clearing became startlingly visible.

Nothing stood between them and the gate. It looked deceivingly clear and simple. Only a few more yards to go and they'd be home, back in Atlantis.

Carson couldn't turn and look over his shoulder, but an incredible sense of dread drenched his bones.

Then, Ronon hollered a sharp warning and Beckett's world suddenly turned upside down.

The Satedan was shoved brutally forward, knocking into Beckett, slapping the doctor and his burden solidly to the soggy wilted grass.

They fell with a muted splash as ground water bubbled up around them.

Beckett tried to scramble out from under Teyla's weight, panicking because he could not lift his head from the water to breathe. He heard Rodney shouting and the sounds of a revolver being fired repeatedly.

Beckett's struggles increased as his need to breathe became more urgent. The sense of being trapped magnified as fear for the others heightened. He kicked and twisted and finally freed himself, gasping for breath. He scrambled to his feet just in time to be bowled over a second time.

A crushing weight slammed into his chest flinging him backward, the residual volume of air rushed from his lungs. The back of his head slammed into the ground splashing water and mud into the air only to have it fall back toward him, splattering his face. Bursts of lights danced in his vision.

His body tried to cough, but no air remained in his lungs. He made no sound as he gaped unsuccessfully fighting to breathe.

His chest refused to lift and recoil under the punishing weight that crushed him into the grassy saturated mud.

Weak reflexive coughs threatened to facilitate the cracking of his ribs.

More gunfire split the night.

Thunder burst overhead and lightning flashed down from the sky.

Beckett found himself nose to nose, staring into the blood red irises of the Howler.

He finally managed to drag in a reflexive wheezing breath. The weight on his chest settled heavier, spreading his ribs further apart and stretching intercostals muscles to their limits.

Beckett stared at the curled fangs and pointed incisors. He found himself counting them and wondered why.

"Help." His plaintive quiet squeak barely reached his own ears.

Darkness fell as lightning blinked out.

The sounds of a P-90 split the night.

The devastating weight suddenly left Beckett's chest. The doctor frantically rolled to his front and inhaled a deep recovery breath that triggered violent harsh coughs which stole his wind.

"Move, Carson, move!" Rodney shouted.

Beckett pushed to his hands and knees and grabbed desperately for Teyla. He scrambled to his feet, lightheaded with mini flashes of light erupting in the corners of his vision. He struggled and fought with the limp weight of Teyla. After a moment, with a desperate cry of frustration, Beckett finally managed to heft the Athosian up over his right shoulder.

He doggedly ran for the DHD. He zigzagged unable to get his bearings as dizziness swung his sense of direction to and fro.

"Dial Atlantis, dial the gate!" Rodney yelled as he clutched the P-90 and dragged Sheppard by his coat collar through the soaked grass.

Rain deluged the area.

Beckett briefly wondered what had happened to the Colonel as he struggled to reach the stargate.

He focused solely on the DHD and stumbled his way forward with Teyla in his grip. Carson tripped his way up the stone mantle and fell heavily against the Ancient device. Muddied hands slapped symbols with the unthinking clarity of rote memory.

Rodney could hear the sounds of the chevrons locking into place. He nearly cried in joy when the sounds of a whooshing worm hole competed with the rain.

Beckett pulled his eyes from the settling event horizon and searched the glade for the others. Through the sheets of rain he could see McKay struggle with dragging an unconscious Sheppard by his vest collar.

The runner was nowhere in sight.

Where was Ronon?

"Ronon?" Carson croaked. His hoarse voice cracked like a junior high boy in choir practice.

"Hurry, damn it! Get through the gate!" McKay shouted, backing up, dragging Sheppard one handed and keeping the P-90 aimed at the creature. Beckett followed the line of site of Rodney's gun and found the Satedan.

The Howler stalked, belly low, toward Ronon.

The creature walked with its head slung below its massive shoulders. Heavy strings of saliva strung down from its lower lip. It closed on Ronon, intent on its prey.

"Rodney?" Beckett hollered over the storm.

"Just go! Go Carson, get Teyla out of here," Rodney shouted, not bothering to look over his shoulder at his two friends. He knew Beckett wouldn't leave Teyla vulnerable, thus Carson's protective streak would save both her and his own life.

McKay allowed himself a small smile. At least those two would be spared.

He fired off another burst as the Howler stalked forward, slinging its massive head left and right cautiously closing the distance to the Runner.

McKay tugged Sheppard's unconscious form tight to his feet.

Damn colonel was always playing hero; never giving thought to those around him who might be left behind. At least there was no macho 'So long, Rodney'.

Fresh blood ran down the side of Sheppard's face. He had shoved Rodney out of harm's way, but had earned himself a second solid blow from the Howler for his trouble.

Rodney squeezed the trigger again, forcing the monstrosity back a step, stealing its attention away from Dex.

McKay felt the rain run down between his skin and clothing. He really hated the rain. He'd take snow over rain any day.

Thunder rumbled overhead.

McKay waited for the flash of lightning. He had only a few rounds left. Not enough to get him or Sheppard or Dex to the gate.

They were dead men.

At least Beckett and Teyla would survive. That was something. Something good.

Weir wouldn't send soldiers into an unknown situation, not unless Carson could convince her, and they didn't have the time.

Rodney kept his grip tight on Sheppard's collar, thanking a God he didn't believe in that he would not die alone. He qualified his thanks because he knew it would be a violent and bloody death and that just wasn't fair. He was Rodney McKay and he deserved better. However, what he deserved and what he received was often quite disparate.

Suddenly a thick brogue was speaking at his ear, "here," and Rodney found Teyla's P-90 pushed into the side of his upper arm. "You're a much better shot than I," Beckett muttered.

"Teyla?"

"Through the gate."

"She's going to be angry with you," Rodney stated.

"Aye, that she will," Beckett answered, staring at the Howler.

The doctor judged the distance between himself and Ronon and the distance between Ronon and the creature. They were all too close. "But I'll blame you for it. She'll believe me," Beckett muttered. "I've lost my radio, probably in the stream with Teyla's. I can't contact Elizabeth to send more men through. You have yours?"

Rodney shook his head. It was somewhere in the grass between himself and the Howler. Sheppard's was long gone.

"Right then, I guess we have to do this ourselves, aye?" Beckett whispered keeping his eyes on the creature that remained motionless, hunched to pounce at Ronon.

The Howler appeared to keep a wary eye on the group of three men just yards from it.

"You ready?" McKay asked hefting the fresh P-90 in his hands.

"No," Beckett whined, "jist don't shoot me in the ass."

"Well, it'll be hard to miss," McKay retorted. "It's the third biggest target out there."

"You're a real bastard, Rodney. You know that, don't you?" Beckett asked.

"Yup." McKay wrapped his hands tightly around the weapon and found himself strangely more relaxed.

"Here I go," Beckett whispered and started off at a run toward Ronon.

The creature howled and lunged for the medical doctor foregoing the easy prey of the unmoving Runner, unable to ignore the instinct that directed it to attack a moving body.

Beckett bolted straight for the Satedan. He could hear the sounds of the P-90 firing steadily behind him. He didn't look at the creature that had started charging toward him, he didn't see it dance and jig in the air as Rodney's shots found their marks.

Carson remained fixed on Ronon, ignoring everything around him. He focused on the downed runner like a draped off surgical site of a patient.

Beckett sprinted, pumping his arms in time with his legs. He promised himself that if they should survive by some miracle he would take up interval training.

He closed the distance to the Runner, water splashed up around his sneakers. Muddied water splattered the back of his calves and thighs.

The skin of heels rubbed away as layers of skin were friction burned against the wrinkled socks and boot seams.

Beckett slid on his knees up beside the unconscious warrior and grabbed him from under his arms. Carson scrambled to his feet, hauling the Satedan partially up out of the mud.

With steady legs and fear fueling his muscles, Beckett began backpedaling as quickly as he could for the gate.

The P-90 paused in its firing.

Beckett kept moving backwards, staring over his shoulders at the DHD. He stuttered for purchase on the slick ground. His heart fluttered in his chest. He quietly apologized every time he mistakenly kicked the Runner.

As he ascended the stone slab before the gate, he slipped and fell backward dragging the unconscious Ronon up over his own legs trapping himself.

Beckett panicked.

His breath froze in his chest as he kicked himself free and twisted back to his feet. He dragged Ronon the last few feet before the gate and then log rolled the Satedan through the shimmering event horizon.

Carson stood up and stared back into the clearing. He couldn't hear the P-90 anymore. Was Rodney out of bullets?

_Oh_ _God, were Rodney and Sheppard okay?_

The medical doctor stepped away from the gate and left the minute glow of the worm hole.

Hard rain lashed the area.

"Rodney?" Beckett called over the torrential down pour. The very sound of his voice frightened him. Instinct silently demanded he keep quiet and not attract attention to himself. The creature prowled out there somewhere beyond the blinding veil of rain after McKay and Sheppard.

"A little help here," McKay's voice sounded strained as it competed with the violent storm.

"Where is it?" Beckett asked as he stumbled off the apron and onto the soggy grass following the sound of Rodney's voice.

"Still here," McKay's forced casual voice was unnerving.

Beckett jogged through the freezing rain to where he could make out the silhouettes of the astrophysicist and the Colonel.

He slowed to a walk and then a halt.

Ground water puddled up around his boots and seeped through his laces.

"Rodney?" Beckett asked tentatively. He spared a glance at his two friends and then stared at the creature that snarled and coiled only a few yards away.

Blood and puncture holes marred the Howler's furless body. The erect ears were pulled back flat against the broad skull and snarling lips revealed rows of dangerously curved and pointed teeth. Six incisors on the bottom seven on the top.

Beckett knew because he had counted them. His own thought processes frightened him at times.

Blood dripped from the creature's punctured eye socket.

"Rodney?" Beckett stood beside McKay staring at the Howler. "I think you managed to anger it.---There a reason you've stopped there?" The physician indicated with his head to various wounds that dotted the Howler.

"It's jammed," McKay answered still clutching Teyla's P-90, "Ronon?"

"Through the gate," Beckett whispered.

"You better go," McKay stated quietly and with a surprisingly even voice.

"Not likely. Not without you," Beckett answered just as steadfast.

"Gun's jammed."

"Aye," Beckett whispered as he stepped closer to McKay and Sheppard. The colonel remained motionless at McKay's feet blood and rain sheeted his face. Rodney still gripped the colonel's collars in his left hand. "Take mine," Beckett slowly unholstered his revolver. "Give me the Colonel."

"I don't think I can get my grip loose," Rodney muttered with a touch of panic in his voice.

Beckett shifted his eyes to the white knuckled grip McKay had twisted in Sheppard's coat collar.

It was a death grip.

McKay had no conscious control over it, not any more. Muscles were contracted and knotted. They were corded under the skin with no conscious ability to relax them.

"You know how to fire that thing, right?" McKay asked.

"A bit," Beckett answered.

McKay shot Beckett a frightened glare, "Sheppard gave you a gun without teaching you how to use it?"

"Don't be daft man," Beckett returned hotly. "I know how to shoot it. I just don't know which hand has better aim."

"What?" McKay's incredulous answer was nearly drowned out by the beating rain.

"Aye, I'm equally bad with both hands," Beckett explained somewhat pitifully as he kept his squinted eyes on the creature. He brightened slightly and turned to McKay with a tentative grin, "I'm a bit better with bird shot, ya know."

The Howler eyed the two men. Its muscles tensed.

"We're dead men," McKay muttered and then whimpered slightly. "Imminent doom just doesn't set well with me."

"Aye," Carson commiserated and rubbed his belly, "Especially just after dinner."

Beckett and McKay stood shoulder to shoulder in the soaking rain staring at the creature with the Colonel crumpled at their feet.

Thunder rolled overhead. Rain sheeted down from the sky with punishing force.

Lightning flashed before the noise dissipated.

The creature lunged, howling with near paralyzing force.

Beckett lifted the gun and began firing madly.


	8. Chapter 9

Okay here is part 9. It has been tweaked, rewrote, deleted, cut/pasted etc. Tomorrow it will probably be pulled down and fixed again, but I feel bad about all those horrible cliff hangers. That was mean of me. I hate cliffhangers myself. So here is part 9. Oh and its kind of short.

**Part 9**

McKay pivoted on his foot and lunged for the gate dragging the Colonel with him. Rodney slogged through the soft grass and mud. He headed for the stone apron his quadriceps burned with each heavy cross-over step he took. He dug for purchase in the squishy ground, splashing mud and water up over his shoes. The balls of his feet sunk solidly into the soil with each step. He hauled the colonel behind him, his arm straining with the dead weight. His shoulder burned competing ruthlessly with his forearm and clenched hand.

Rain soaked McKay's face, mingling freely with his sweat, running into his eyes, forcing him to squint. The scientist stared straight ahead focusing solely on the gate and the shimmering event horizon.

Beckett kept pace beside McKay firing arbitrarily with one hand, finding it awkward and switching it to the other hand.

The creature shook its head and reared back on its hind feet pawing at the sky as rain cascaded down upon it. Blood and rain water streamed in crooked paths across its body.

A barrage of bullets skimmed across its hide, whistled by its head and unfortunately very few embedded solidly within its body.

Beckett paused in firing as he and McKay stumbled up the stone platform. They stood in front of the worm hole, eying the Howler.

It seemed the two parties took measure of one another, gauging their fight, their chance of survival.

The two men stared wide eyed at the monstrous creature that stared at them with a menacing one eyed glare. The lids over and under the missing eye twitched irregularly. Blood glopped like jelly from its mangled socket.

"Gross," Rodney muttered.

"Crap," Beckett hissed.

The Howler roared, trigging both men into action.

Simultaneously, McKay and Beckett quickly bent down and shoved the colonel through the gate.

Beckett looked up in time to see the Howler lunge for them. He raised the gun and began firing.

McKay screamed and sprang forward under Carson's outstretched arms.

Rodney wrapped his arms around Beckett's midsection and hurled them both through worm hole.

They skipped and slid into the gate room with Beckett on his back facing the event horizon. He kept his head and shoulders raised, firing the .9mm.

Medical personnel dove for cover.

"The Iris! Raise the iris" McKay screamed as he slid belly down, one shoulder embedded in Carson's midsection.

The Canadian at the control consol slapped the key and raised the iris. He leaned over the consol and stared below at the chaos in the gate room.

The iris flashed across the event horizon just as an orange/yellow explosion sounded from the other side with an ominous thud.

The iris sparked and flared with the repeated hits of bullets from Beckett's handgun.

Medical teams bodily shielded their patients.

The colonel lay near the entrance of the gate where he had exited, partially on his side with legs extended, crossed at the ankles and unmoving. Water and blood pooled under his head and turned shoulders.

"Whoa, whoa!" Major Lorne squatted down between the two doctors careful not to startle them. "I think you got whatever it was, doc. Nothing's gonna be walking away from that," Lorne stated with a mixture of apprehension, fear and sarcasm.

Beckett stopped firing the gun but kept it aimed in the general direction of the star gate.

Rodney cautiously lowered his jammed P-90. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere," McKay muttered, placing Teyla's weapon on the floor. It clattered noisily. A soldier suddenly appeared. He quickly reached down and retrieved the weapon and engaged the safety.

"I think I shoot better with my left hand," Beckett rasped as Lorne reached over the CMO's muddied soaked shoulder and pried the revolver from the doctor's white knuckled grip.

The major quietly secured the weapon and handed it off behind himself to one of his silent marines.

Medical personal slowly began to straighten up and continue to treat their patients. They tossed wary glances at the two doctors sitting in the middle of the floor soaked to the skin.

"Don't fool yourself Carson. You're equally horrible with both hands," McKay pointed out as he slowly pushed himself to his knees and then started to climb painfully to his feet.

He suddenly gasped and grabbed for his abdomen when it unexpectedly and violently cramped, keeping him on his knees. He felt the warmth of a thick liquid spread slowly over his chilled hands.

At first he had thought it rain water. The liquid was too dense, too warm to just be saturated clothing that was wringing wet.

He stared down at his midsection and hand to find both covered with thick dark congealing blood.

"Carson?" McKay questioned softly and looked up from his bloody hand and to the CMO. Rodney's face became ghostly pale as his eyes grew large with panic. He slowly began to melt to the side.

"Oh crap," Beckett whispered and scrambled to his knees and grabbed for the toppling scientist.

He eased McKay back to the floor, guiding his head and neck. "Hold on, Rodney."

The doctor turned to Lorne and hoarsely whispered, "We need more medical up here." His voice faded before he could finish his sentence, but the major clearly understood.

Beckett knocked Rodney's hands away from his abdomen as he undid the sopping coat and lifted the torn shirt. He found McKay's right flank torn and lacerated. Meat and adipose bulged from furrowing wounds. "What happened, Rodney?"

"I, I don't know," McKay muttered. "Must have happened in the clearing when it took out Ronon and then went for you."

"What happened after that?" Beckett asked as he carefully slit Rodney's shirt open and began searching for more wounds.

"You aren't touching me with the hands you've been coughing into all night are you?"

"No, Rodney, I'm using Major Lorne's hands." Beckett returned. "Now what happened after it knocked me and Teyla down?"

"Ronon knocked you two down," Rodney clarified. "When you started flopping around and got free of Teyla, it went for you. Sheppard went for it. It got pissed off and went for me. I got it with the P-90.---or I thought I did."

Rodney closed his eyes as nausea swamped him like a storm tide. His vision began to grey and voices faded in and out on him. He suddenly felt terribly cold and felt himself shiver, violently. It should have made his side hurt but it didn't, not really. He heard someone groan, and realized it was himself. Beckett was calling to him, telling him to hang on---everything was going to be alright.

Beckett's voice kept fading. Rodney could hear Carson coughing and hacking. He hoped Carson wasn't coughing all over him; that would just be disgusting. And he could hear other voices. Mostly Carson's telling him to fight, not to give up. Rodney wanted to tell him not to worry, he wasn't going anywhere.

A deep cold ached his bones. But then he suddenly felt the urge to throw up, which he promptly did.

After that everything faded to black and the noise funneled down into the nothingness.


	9. Chapter 1o

Here it is. Chapter 10 and 11 go together like chapters 4 and 5...

**Part 10**

"Hold him still." McKay could hear Biro. Her clipped flat voice stood out like a sore thumb in amongst all the different accents on Atlantis. He wondered what she was doing searching for a ZPM on some medieval planet. McKay felt incredibly hot and once again tried to shed the coat he was wearing and kick free of his sleeping bag.

At least Carson wasn't hacking near him anymore.

Thank God for small favors.

Then he heard the bone rattling coughs off in the distance. He wanted nothing more than to tell Carson to shut up. But it seemed to take too much of his strength.

How was anyone to get any sleep with Beckett continuously trying to haul up a lung?

McKay shifted again. His muscles ached, his joints hurt and his skin felt prickly. He was hot, terribly hot, he needed to get up, walk around, maybe get some coffee. Coffee always made him feel better. It was time to start moving, try walking this edgy uncomfortable feeling off. Go the lab.

He'd give Carson a good nudge on the way by to get him to quiet down.

His skin crawled and his muscled cramped. His clothes scratched against his skin and his side hurt terribly.

Definitely time to get up. Everything ached. He needed caffeine. Coffee was always the best source. Hell, it was a cure-all. He'd seen Carson drink it by the pot. The Scot might like a spot of tea, but he could pack away the coffee in a pinch; Sheppard too.

McKay tried to sit up, push away his blankets and crawl free of his bedding.

Rodney felt something grab at him.

Images of the creature flashed to his mind. He recalled how it tried to drag the others into the forest. Ronon, the Colonel, Teyla; all of them had been attacked.

Rodney panicked and began to fight back.

He hollered for Colonel Sheppard. But Sheppard had been dragged away within the jaws of the beast.

He shouted for Teyla, but she had drowned in a river.

Ronon had been torn asunder in the small meadow.

Rodney fought the paws that tried to pin him. He kicked out and screamed against the creature that tried smothering him in the mud like it had done Beckett. He screamed for Carson, knowing that the doctor had drowned in a field.

He bucked and kicked and fought for all he was worth. His muscles ached and bruised under the claws that gripped his arms. His ears roared with his bounding pulse, punishing his head with each beat. Rodney kicked out, fighting the covers that entangled his legs and trapped his feet. He flailed about screaming his rage with a weak hoarse voice. He struggled against the beast that tried to snap his bones and quaff his marrow.

A warmth seeped up his arm and through his shoulders. The heat spread through his muscles, leadening his arms and legs. His strength faded. He rolled his head away from the Howler as it tried to trap him. He mumbled for Sheppard. He whispered for the colonel. The colonel was pretty good at pulling off military miracles. Darkness enveloped McKay and he slid deeper into a dreamless sleep.

A fever raged.

Biro and Weir watched from opposite sides of the bed as McKay settled heavily into the mattress under the muting effects of medication.

The surgery a half day earlier had been successful. Beckett with Biro in assistance had managed to put McKay back together. Both doctors were relatively relieved that the creature's claws had not truly punctured McKay's abdominal cavity. Blood loss, exhaustion and shock had taken their toll on the astrophysicist. A fever raged as foreign bacteria from the Howler's claws and teeth battled heatedly with the body's defenses.

Near the end of the surgery, when the delicate intricate work was completed and layers only needed closed, Beckett had simply asked Biro to finish. With her undemanding nod, Carson stepped back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He sat tiredly leaning forward with his forehead resting on his crossed forearms. He fought for breath between bouts of forceful coughing.

Three hours ago fevers soared and ran rampant through those who suffered at the hands of the Howler.

Ronon's arm had been immobilized. Beckett and Biro agreed as they stood staring at the images of the re-aligned bones, that if the limb remained properly set within a cast that perhaps implants could be avoided. They would try. Carson's hands had shook, his arms felt leaden and he agreed that he did not have the strength nor endurance to man-handle bones in surgery. Ronon deserved better. They'd try the simplest technique first and proceed from there.

Biro tended to Ronon's and Sheppard's shoulders while Teyla was run through a skull series. Sheppard and Ronon both followed afterward.

None of the SGA-1 team showed signs of truly waking.

Beckett, in dry scrubs and coat, finally sat on the edge an empty infirmary bed and quietly fought for breath between brutal bouts of coughing.

He kept an eye on the others and waited for test results back on his friends.

Biro kept her distance and quietly waited. Within a few minutes of sitting, Beckett slowly eased down onto his side and gingerly pulled heavy legs onto the bed. He lay semi curled on his side, wheezing uncomfortably, watching the occupant on the next bed over.

McKay was still wrapped in a medically induced sleep. IVs and oxygen tubing snaked from various stands and portable units to the patient.

Beckett didn't remember dozing off. He certainly didn't recall his nurses freeing him of his coat or fitting him with oxygen or removing his boots allowing his socks to unwrinkled and unfold from under the balls of his feet. They peeled his socks from his feet, carefully tearing them away from bloodied torn blisters. He never moved when they cleaned his heels and medicated them. He slept through his own series of chest imaging.

He didn't see the worry in his staffs' expressions as his low grade fever began to climb with each passing hour he lay still allowing the toxins to sit relatively unchallenged in his chest. He missed all of it, even the powerful bouts of coughing that left him red faced and wheezing. Carson drifted heavily in his own sea of misery.

Beckett missed McKay's fever induced struggles, and his frantic calls for the others.

Colonel Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon suffered similar fevers. The howler's attacks had seeded their wounds with a tenacious bacterium. Cold packs and cooling pads had been nestled around them in an attempt to bring fevers down.

Ronon had remained still through his fever. His shoulder and broken arm were tightly wrapped and restrained. The white bandages stood out sharply against his dark skin.

Teyla occasionally whimpered and then heaved violently, emptying her stomach. Her hair was pulled back and folded over the thick bandage that protected her head.

Sheppard muttered rolling his head left and right occasionally whispering orders to individuals no one else could see. His arm lay trapped, bandaged tightly against his sutured chest, keeping the joints immobilized. Stitches adorned his forehead and temple forcing his hair to spike more unruly than usual. Occasionally his trapped and swollen hand would flex and jump as his fever rose and muscles cramped.

Dr. Weir had come to the infirmary an hour after Beckett and Biro had finished surgery on McKay. She returned two hours later, after the first time Carson had wandered off undetected.

Elizabeth returned three hours later, entering the bustling infirmary as McKay fought with creatures only he could see and she stayed to help.

With McKay finally settled, the head of Atlantis leaned against the bed and stared at the sleeping scientist not truly seeing him but wondering how much more trouble this team could possibly find.

She smiled tightly at the Pathologist commiserating with the other woman. Weir shook her head slightly with amusement that was colored with concern.

Weir and Biro had their attention pulled from the sedated astrophysicist by sounds of nurse.

"Dr. Biro," Emily, the head nurse from Perth, Australia, called tiredly and with a hint of frustration, "Dr. Beckett has gone missing again."

Biro closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and took a steadying breath. She then looked pointedly to Dr. Weir, not having to articulate her response.

Elizabeth grimaced and tapped her ear piece, "Major Lorne, Dr. Beckett…"

"Gone again?" Major Lorne's tinny voice sounded amused as he correctly guessed her request, "we'll find him and bring him back." There was a pause, "The others?"

Weir turned and faced the small section of the infirmary where the others lay. "Still here and somewhat quiet."

She could almost see Lorne nod his head.

Rodney was rarely still or quiet.

* * *

Day 2

The first thing McKay became aware of was the bed. The mattress was not as soft as the one in his quarters but it was much softer than the ground. The second thing he noticed was the lack of a crackling fire or the smell of smoke. The third was no coughing.

The coughing suddenly started. It was deep, wet and sounded painful.

"Carson, shut up," McKay muttered, raising an impossibly heavy hand to his head. When he felt the plastic tubing brush against his arm, he paused. When he felt the tug of a catheter in the back of his hand, he cracked his eyes open. The lids peeled slowly apart and refused to open completely.

The dark lighting of the infirmary was immediately familiar. The smells came second as olfactory senses came online and began reporting in. The scent of antiseptic was unmistakable.

McKay dropped a weighted hand to his blanketed midsection. A dull ache resided in his upper left abdomen. It felt distance like waves crashing on an unseen shores.

He kept his eyes on the IV, unable to find the energy or desire to move his gaze. He thought about the muted pain and finally pieced together that whatever dripped through the line was keeping him comfortably numb.

He wasn't sure he liked Pink Floyd but he understood what they meant now.

Harsh moist coughs drummed in the background.

The coughing was slowly tapering off, but the sounds of worried voices picked up.

McKay rolled his head against the pillow. He felt unusually sluggish. Rodney closed his eyes at the fatigue the simple move generated and listened to the commotion on the next bed over.

He blinked and narrowed his gaze trying to improve his sight as he strained to see. His hearing seemed more cooperative.

"Come on, Carson," Biro urged, holding an oxygen mask to the CMO's face. "Take a breath." The doctor turned her attention to the nurse on the opposite side of the bed. "We have to sit him up straighter." The two women struggled gamely to push Beckett more upright.

From seemingly out of nowhere, Ronon, with one arm immobilized across his midsection, and Major Lorne strode to opposite sides of the bed and easily pushed Beckett into a sitting position.

Carson rolled forward into his bent blanketed knees.

McKay could see his features were deep red almost bordering on blue.

"Damn it, Dr. Beckett, take a breath." Biro ordered.

Ronon slapped the doctor soundly on the back.

A second explosive set of coughs erupted, splattering the clear oxygen mask with thick, tenacious, greenish phlegm and flakes of blood.

Beckett's features turned an even darker hue.

"Don't do that," Biro hissed.

"Seemed to work," Ronon stated.

Beckett heaved in a panicked breath as one fist curled helplessly into his blanket near his hip. The IV followed his movement of his hand like a leash.

An intense bout of coughing started again.

McKay heard Beckett moan painfully and tilt to the side, trying to lie back down but only managing to fold up against Lorne. "Oh no you don't, Doc. Biro wants you sitting up." The major gently pushed Beckett upright.

Beckett stole a second and third desperate breath, fogging the splattered oxygen mask that was held tightly to his face. Fierce wet, coughs rattled forth but they were suddenly combined with something more forceful, more violent.

"Damn it, he's retching. Roll him over," Biro's voice became clipped, authoritative.

Rodney recognized it as panic. He watched as the oxygen mask was pulled away and Carson was shoved to the side. The white scrub top seemed to highlight the deep anguish blush to the skin of the back of his neck. Beckett's shoulders were held down over the side of the bed as he back arched painfully upward and both fists knotted and rolled into the bedding. Thick strings of blood tinged mucus and bile thickly flowed forth and dangled toward the floor to puddle.

"He was healthier on the planet walking," Ronon stated impatiently, repeating Linus's suggestions in his own way.

Biro kept a hand on Carson's forehead keeping him from banging his head against the side of the bed. There was a pregnant pause as the CMO continued to cough and then retch once again, arching his back unbearably tight as reflexes nearly threw him to his knees.

The violence and ungraceful strain of the action reminded Rodney of his cat vomiting up hairballs. There was nothing elegant or refined in such actions. It was one of the few times Rodney felt cats lacked any hint of poise. He missed his cat. He didn't miss the fur balls stuck to the rugs or his blanket.

"You might have something, Specialist Dex." Biro's thoughtful voice leached some of the tension from the room.

McKay watched for another moment before his eyes drifted closed and he sank back into his infirmary bed. He fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

The third time McKay woke, he was unnerved to see Sheppard leaning in so close staring at him.

"Come on, McKay, wake up so I can go keep an eye on Lorne and Beckett."

Rodney stared at Sheppard, noting deep maroon and blue bruise that bled down his features, turned his sclera bright red and leached its way to his chin. A neat row stitches curved around from his forehead over to his temple. Sheppard's shoulder was tightly bandaged and restrained by a blue sling.

"Carson?" McKay whispered. His throat scratched, feeling as if he had swallowed sand.

"Here," Sheppard leaned forward placing a bendy straw at McKay's lips. There was a moments pause, "You got to draw it in, McKay." The colonel smiled sarcastically at Rodney's questioning look. "Get your mind out of the gutter and take a drink."

McKay managed only a feeble sip before the straw was pulled away. Oral tissues absorbed the water before it even reached the back of his throat, preventing him from the luxury of swallowing, not that he was terribly hungry or truly thirsty at the moment. Truthfully, at the moment, he didn't truly didn't know how he felt. Hungry or otherwise.

"Can't have more. Biro has her hands filled with Teyla being sick." Sheppard gazed over his shoulders at the Pathologist and her team that worked silently over the Athosian.

McKay tried to follow the colonel's look. "Teyla?"

"Bad knock to the head, making her sick---disoriented as Hell," Sheppard stated still staring at the bed in the far corner before turning back to Rodney.

McKay rubbed at his stomach and furrowed his brow trying to remember what happened.

"You and Beckett got us through the gate…"

"Saved your asses again," McKay interrupted with a weak version of his patent smug smirk.

"Yeah, thanks," Sheppard mumbled. "Anyhow, you got sliced pretty bad. Beckett had to do emergency surgery, keep everything inside you where it belonged. That creature thing carried some sort of bacteria on its claws. Got most of us pretty sick." The colonel quickly added, "you're going to be okay, McKay, just sore for awhile. Biro and her group have been doing a pretty good job of it."

"Carson?"

"Biro has Lorne and Philips walking him around outside trying to work that crap out of his lungs. Keeping him still was allowing it to settle and concentrate. Ronon's with them."

"You?" McKay muttered tiredly, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Me? I'm fine, McKay. I've got to go make sure the Doc doesn't get too surly and start trying to get away again." Sheppard dismissed Rodney's concern and patted his shoulder. "Get some rest. Biro could use a break." With that, Sheppard cautiously stood up and gently stretched, being careful of his shoulder and rib.

McKay stared at him for a bit keeping the Colonel close by with just a tired stare. Eventually, Rodney's eyes fluttered closed and he settled into a heavy, healing slumber. Sheppard paused a few more moments before leaving the bedside.

* * *

**Part 11**

The fourth time McKay opened his eyes, he found Teyla staring at him quietly.

"Hello, Dr. McKay," she quietly leaned forward in her chair and placed an ice chip against his lips. Rodney didn't realize what was occurring until the ice melted on his tongue. This time enough liquid traveled to the back of his tongue to stimulate a swallow reflex.

"Teyla?"

"I am here and am fine." She smiled tiredly. McKay stared at her. Even with the bruising and stitches along the side of her head and the swelling, she was still breath-takingly beautiful. Thank-god she wasn't blonde.

"The others?" McKay tried to sit himself up but found just the thought of moving made his muscles ache. He settled for laying still.

"Colonel Sheppard and Ronon are on the balcony offering encouragements to Dr. Beckett, Major Lorne and Sergeant Philips."

McKay snorted, "Yeah right."

"Dr. Beckett is moving and breathing easier. His fever has abated some and he struggles less and less against Major Lorne and Sergeant Philips. I fear both the major and sergeant seem to be waning. However, they do keeping offering Colonel Sheppard and Ronon hand signals in response to the support offered each time they pass by."

"I bet," McKay muttered smiling. He rubbed at his stomach again and found the lethargy irritating as it once again pulled him toward sleep.

"You must rest Dr. McKay, your fever was quite high only yesterday and you lost much blood."

Rodney thought about nodding in agreement but sleep crept in too quickly and buried him.

* * *

The fifth time he opened his eyes, his mind quickly deduced where he was and why. His eyes fluttered opened to see Dex and Teyla staring at him.

"His eyes are open," Ronon stated.

_Oh yes, Mr. Obvious is back_, McKay thought.

"It does not mean he is awake," Teyla observed. "Remember, Colonel Sheppard did that yesterday."

"Hey, I was awake," Sheppard said indigently from the opposite side of the bed. McKay rolled his head toward the Colonel and found the action took less energy than the times before.

"No, you weren't," Ronon stated.

"Ask, Beckett," The colonel challenged, hoping the CMO would collaborate his story.

"Dr. Beckett, was not here at the time. He had wandered away again," Teyla answered.

"He did?" Sheppard asked. "Where does he go?"

"Don't know," Ronon said. "Next time I'll follow him."

"He is better. He will not be wandering away again anytime soon," Teyla noted. She stared at the bed across the way. The physician slept heavily on his side, a nasal canula taped in place. Dry sweat stiffened his dirty hair. He huddled under blankets, effectively hiding most of his frame but his toes and bandaged heels.

"Sheppard will make him go off world," Ronon spoke, "and he'll get into trouble, and then he'll wander off."

"Go talk elsewhere," McKay muttered. "Man down; Dying, here you know. Show some respect, I saved all your asses---again."

"Oh, so you're awake," Sheppard said sitting on the edge of McKay's bed. " 'Bout damn time. You had us worried; Biro was sharpening her circular saw and I thought I might have to say something nice at your funeral."

"Uh huh," McKay breathed, gently trying to find a comfortable position. He eyed the IV with disgust. Apparently they had cut back on his medication.

"They cut back on your pain meds," Sheppard offered helpfully.

McKay scowled at him as if to blame him for the lack of appropriate medication.

"How do you feel, Dr. McKay?" Teyla asked with appropriate concern in her voice. "You appear more lucid than you did earlier."

"You're making more sense," Ronon informed.

McKay's eyes narrowed.

"Listen, McKay, Biro gave us a clean bill of health. You're stuck here for another few days," Sheppard stated. "You'll have Beckett as a roomy until tomorrow."

Sheppard turned his attention to the CMO. He watched tiredly as Beckett reached a hand out from under his blankets and pushed unconsciously at the nasal canula, shifting it out from under his nose.

The colonel silently cursed and marveled at the Scot. After having Major Lorne and Sergeant Philips support Beckett's solid frame back and forth along the west pier for the last few hours, forcing him to cough and clear his lungs, the man still had the ability to resist even in his sleep. Lorne and Philips were more than happy to drop Beckett back into the infirmary bed. They had spent hours of pacing, cajoling and joking with the CMO, trying to keep him moving. They forced a portable oxygen mask over his face after each bout of painful, productive coughing, despite his muted attempts to wiggle his face free of it and them. Philips had remarked that Beckett was built as solid as a brick house.

Lorne figured he and Sheppard were even. At first the colonel had been dubious until he and Ronon sat on the balcony to watch and then add their support and suggestions to the stumbling, swaying trio below them.

The hours were entertaining. Sheppard must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes, a blanket had been draped over him. Ronon sat beside him, his head resting on his chest with a blanket across his legs and a second one around his shoulders.

Beckett still cursed Lorne and Philips every couple of feet on the pier below. Sheppard leaned forward and had once again started offering suggestions and motivational quotes. The sign language directed back at him fed his vocal responses with more vigor.

It was a vicious cycle. After a few more hours, with the portable oxygen empty, the sun low over the horizon and Beckett able to curse them out without having to gasp for breath or be interrupted by a series of eye watering coughs, Biro gave them the okay to come back to the infirmary.

Carson had continued to drag his feet, allowing the Major to support the bulk of his weight.

Lorne suffered, almost adequately enough.

Sheppard watched as Beckett swiped at the misaligned canula, pushing at it blindly with a sleeping hand.

"Teyla?"

The Athosian noted the direction of the colonel's gaze and sighed. She stepped beside Carson's bed, "No, Dr. Beckett, you must leave that be," she chastised quietly and replaced the nasal canula. She tucked the blankets tighter around his shadowed chin, hopefully trapping his hands momentarily. She gently carded her hand over his dirty hair for moment once again silently thanking him for saving their lives.

"Let's go, leave these two to their peace." Sheppard delicately pushed away from the chair he straddled, careful of his left arm and cognizant of his rib. He stood with the aid of Ronon's unbroken arm.

"We'll see you later, McKay," Sheppard stated.

"If, Beckett decides to leave again, let me know, Little Man," Ronon ordered, "I will follow him."

"You saved our lives, Dr. McKay," Teyla whispered softly with a smile on her face. She placed her hands on both his shoulders and touched her forehead gently to his. She paused for a moment before pulling away.

"Get some rest, McKay," the Colonel recommended. "Heard they're having spaghetti tonight with garlic bread."

"You can't have any," Ronon stated before Rodney could utter his request.

McKay carefully harrumphed and settled heavily back against his pillow under his blankets. He truly wasn't hungry but the idea of missing out on a meal bothered him.

The three left, casting the darkened infirmary into an unusual silence.

Shadows stretched across the floor keeping the corners dark. With the lights set at their night settings, the silence seemed heavier.

Rodney stared over to the next bed and watched as Beckett reached a hand out from under his blanket and once again tug the nasal canula out from under his nose and down near his chin.

McKay sighed carefully and closed his eyes. He thought about calling Biro or someone to come fix Carson's oxygen, but figured he had fulfilled his helpful quota for the next couple of weeks.

He'd let someone else save day; play the hero. He was tired.

McKay gingerly stretched his legs under the blankets and stifled a yawn.

Saving everyone around him, _again_, was arduous. It wore on him.

With a satisfied conscience, he settled into back into the mattress, marveling, once again, at his own bottomless well of remarkable feats. Hell, he even amazed himself at times. Which in itself struck him as extraordinary, but true.

A satisfied smile warmed his features as he drifted off to sleep.

Biro watched from the cloaking shadows that encompassed the nurses' station and sighed. She tsked silently at her boss and considered suturing the oxygen canula in place.

She gazed down at the print out in her hand. All the clothing and blood spatter flakes that Beckett had submitted to his lab for DNA testing came back as their own. No blood from the creature that had attacked them had been found.

Biro wasn't sure if her boss would welcome going back to the planet to try and get a few samples of blood from the villagers or just let it all be. She couldn't guess what he would decide. When it came to his research, he was pinpoint focused and made decisions while his mind was still narrowly honed.

Dr. Zelenka had a pool running already as to whether their CMO would voluntarily step through the gate to return to M3X-808 for blood samples. At the moment, the Atlantis population was split in half. Biro had refrained from placing a bet so far, not because of a moral or ethical internal squabble but simply because when it came to her boss and his field of research he had a tendency to become unpredictable. She needed more time to read the situation. She feared, however, that he would return to the planet as long as the quarter moon was no where near rising. Research was after all research. Uncovering secrets and discovering new sequences, enzymes and functions were no different to a dedicated genetic researcher than uncovering the Holy Grail.

The Pathologist scrutinized McKay's movements and was relieved to see him move with more ease. Biro never thought she would ever be pleased to see the self satisfied, self congratulating smile on his face so soon. The energy spikes on M3X-808 still remained unexplained. The betting pool under Dr. Zelenka's quick pencil leaned in favor of McKay returning to the planet with more gadgets, tools and a much larger contingency of marines. The real wagering came in the haggling over the number and amount of fire power McKay would demand should accompany him.

Biro pushed off the wall and disappeared deep into the long shadows of the infirmary. She headed back to her lab. Tissues and lesions were her El Dorado.

Tomorrow things would be easier for her patients, more difficult for her.

And tomorrow, Atlantis would breathe another sigh of relief as her head scientist and his team, once again, tap danced their way around imminent doom.

The end.


End file.
